


A Lover Of The Light

by CircusBones



Series: Durinisms [2]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Cultural Differences, F/M, Family Shenanigans, Friendship/Love, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Rangers gotta range, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-25 07:06:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 30,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CircusBones/pseuds/CircusBones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A possible adventure, between a posturing youngster Dwarf and a sheltered Elf Captain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All right, so. I am someone who reads The Hobbit once a year, for the nostalgia feelings. That said, I truly like the idea of some female power in the film versions, and I do like the idea, if it's all we get, of a friendship/crush between an elf and a dwarf. A precursor to the friendship of Legolas/Gimli, if you will. That is how I hope it will play out on the screen, anyway. As far as what I write here, well...it's all in good fun. I haven't read any other fic for these two at this point, hopefully this is fresh enough for ye.

.

.

"So I had done wrong but you put me right  
My judgement burned in the black of night  
When I give less than I take  
It is my fault my own mistake..."

.

.

They'd separated him -from his brother-. That was the chief offense, really, if he were being honest with himself. Not the delay in their quest, but being away from Fili. He'd been in scraps before, but Fili had always been there right by his side, older and knowing exactly what to do, what to say to their mother, to Thorin, he'd even buttered up Dwalin once or twice. Maybe things had changed since they were lads, since they were now men grown, but if he were honest with himself Kili would admit that he'd still looked to his older brother to get them out of trouble. Moreso than he looked to his uncle, even, not that Thorin had been around as much of late, as he'd been when they were little boys...

Right, so. It was just him in his cell then, sending a glare right back at the elven captain who'd dragged them all into the bowels of the blasted Elvish halls. There'd been that lady-like blonde ponce of a prince with her when they'd been taken in the woods by bows and swords, and how deep had that cut Kili? To be still addled by spider venom, that he'd hardly been able to send a warning arrow buzzing over their heads. She'd laughed at him, this...this ginger giant of an elf, with her bow nearly as tall as he was. 

Elven archers. Pft.

“...Come to stare at me some more, then?” He huffed, back against the wall of his cell. The elf was looking at him, squinting, and frankly it bothered him. “Hurting that badly for real men among your ranks, eh?” He tried, arching a brow. The elf...Tauriel, he recalled her name was...rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

“I'd never seen dwarves, until your company,” She told him, honestly enough, her curiosity all over her fair face. Her voice was...well, it was like summer, all light and young and tart, if not exactly warm, “I am curious...you're not the youngest, and yet your beard, it's the most sparse...”

“Oh, fine, excellent, bringing that up then?!” He snorted, fidgeting in his spot, trying not to let it show how she'd hit a sore spot when it came to his beard. Where was his brother when he needed him? Faster with a quip, a retort... “...It's coming in, Ori...Ori just got lucky.” Without thinking, Kili buried his chin in the folds of his hood. The faintest of smiles toyed around the edges of the Elf's lips, and he had to admit, it looked far prettier on her than the scowl.

It was...odd, seeing a grown woman with a bare face. Even dwarf babies who were lasses tended toward having tufts around their wee chins. His own mother had kept hers cropped close along her jaw, yet with long, braided and beaded tendrils falling from her temples. This Tauriel, she didn't even have much in the way of sideburns...

“Is it Durin's line?” She tilted her head, presently, “Your uncle, his beard...”

“He cut his, in penance!” Kili spurted, angrily, and then...well, Fili would be so proud of his sharp mind then, “Wait. Thorin's here too?” He dived right for the bars of his cell then, gripping them hard and looking at the elf sharply. Her lips snapped shut, her green eyes wide, and he couldn't help but smirk. “He is! He is, and you...”

“...Are here to guard you,” Tauriel replied sharply, her face going smooth, unreadable. At the bars Kili somewhat deflated, his shoulders dropping. She dropped against the wall, arms crossed, and damn her, her height did bother him, the way she loomed over him even from across the room. He crossed his arms in reply, still leaning against the bars with a wry smirk. Thorin was in this fortress somewhere. Fili wasn't right here with him, he'd have to figure out how to handle this all by himself.

“So,” He began, mildly, picking at his nails and praying that he seemed older than his years, “You've got cells enough to keep thirteen of my kin prisoner? The elves of Mirkwood must think themselves very disliked indeed, to be so prepared...”

“Our King's stronghold is coveted, and the forest grows ever darker!” Tauriel snapped, much as Kili had done over his uncle's honor. A grin spread over his face, even as dark red patches stained hers. Right then, this would be a way to pass the time...

.

.

.

.

.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note, being that this leans into movie canon I went ahead and imagined that Thranduil would have known Thorin right away. In fact he probably knows damn well what's up (he kind of does in the book as well), which puts two youngsters like Legolas and Tauriel in an interesting position. Anyway, onward!

.

.

.

.

When she'd been a young girl she'd learned the names, in all their proper tongues, of other known races. She'd learned of Faenor and the kin who dwelt long in Valinor before returning to Middle Earth. Tauriel's people had never seen the undying lands, would not unless they finally chose to bid farewell to the land they'd known since the waking of Arda. Though most of her close kin would rather fade away into the starlight under their beloved trees, than take the route of their “more gentle” kin to the sea. 

Tauriel? She hadn't much of an opinion either way, at least not at this time. She was young and hale yet, nearing her 500th year. She was sly and she was quick, she'd worked her way up the ranks even at her young age, and was held in regard equal to her King's own son. The two of them were merry and incorrigible, her and Legolas, The Prince and The Captain, riding fearless through the darkening wood. It seemed to the two of them that the creeping autumn would never come to -their- people. And so perhaps it was their manner that the gods frowned on, their flighty response to the darkness in the East. Perhaps some other sin had saddled her with the dwarves.

They weren't all bad, of course. The fat one was simply always wanting for further rations, the fussy one very politely asking for wine with his dinners, the youngest twiddling his thumbs in their mittens and looking sweetly bewildered. The great, tattooed one only gave her snarls, Thorin gave her stony silence, and the one of lightest hair would only ask after his little brother, if he asked for anything. Tauriel found herself telling him that Kili was just fine. She thought she could hardly be blamed for enjoying the questioning of that younger brother best of all of them. Maybe he was foolishly freer with his tongue, but later, thinking on his conversation, Tauriel would realize that he hadn't actually given her much. 

He just told her of a world she knew little of, and that entertained her through this long post, when she'd much rather be out with Legolas seeing to the orc problem, as was her proper duty. And what was her King so fixated on about these dwarves, that he had his most trusted Captain and jailer posted to them? Perhaps it was Tauriel's job to find out.

“Sure, and elven bows are keen enough,” Kili was saying presently, scuffing a boot against the hard stone floor, “But ours are cleverer.” Here he grinned, as she couldn't help the sharp look she sent him through the bars, “Come now, think on it! Since when have your folk made bows for folk our height, eh?” She had no answer for that, and the shorter fellow grinned again. He was very free with his smile. Only the other young one was so unflappable, “Maybe you lot have got the sharper eyes, keener senses, but we make our weapons with less assurance of our own selves, and more on stayin' alive...”

“So do we,” Tauriel snapped, affronted, and the dwarf gave her a brow. She shook her head, long hair swaying, “...All right, so we're...generally assured of our superior aim.” The dwarf smirked, and Tauriel's lips twitched, “Not all your people are thusly proficient though, and don't deny it.” She noted stoutly, and the young dwarf dipped his head once in acknowledgment.

“We're a folk more used to close combat, axes, swords...” Kili smiled true, then, “But my brother and I have a widow mother to feed, and so hunting was a skill we learned early.”

“Your mother?” Tauriel found herself pressing further, intrigued, even as a guarded look crossed over the young dwarf's face as she caught on this topic. She could hardly blame him, she wouldn't go on about her kin to an enemy either. But the idea of dwarf women...Tauriel was wildly curious. “She...” She cleared her throat, “She waits for you?” His chin went up, defiant even as he answered her, and Tauriel felt it stir some further. distant affection for him, and his brother. 

“She does,” He replied stoutly, sending her a sharp look, “For her sons and her brother. We're all she has, and your people have waylaid us on our way...”

“Oh, don't try that,” The elf smirked, “If you cared for a mother's worrying, you'd not have been so far along the Eastern road, and through our dangerous wood.” 

“It's -for- our mother that we're-..” He snapped, and then stopped himself, and only a beat later did Tauriel realize why. The look of panic about his dark eyes, as if he'd almost given something about their aims away. She put this bit of information away, tilting her head and watching him, “...I see, why you hang 'round my cell the most,” He said, crossing his arms, scooting his back up to the stone wall of his cell and looking well and sulky. Tauriel had to bite down a grin, as he went on grumbling like a child,“Folk always think I'm the idiot, you know? 'Fili's the handsome one, one who'll be just like Thorin, and Kili'll...probably lose himself down a coal mine'. 'He's the one who'll let slip!', bet that's what you're thinking under all that...that orange hair.”

“...No, I linger near your cell because these hours of guarding your kin without conversation, when I should by rights be out with -my- kin defending our borders, are torture. And I'll not find amiable company from oh, the one with the tattooed head,” Tauriel answered honestly, and that got him to grin down at his boots. She felt herself returning it, “...Though, if there -is- something you'd like to confide in me about...?”

“...Not losin' myself down a coal mine today, sorry miss,” He glanced her way again, biting his lip, “...Can I get a closer look at your arrows, though?”

 

.

.

.

.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad this is pleasing people. You're all my favorites!

.

.

.

.  
He'd tried his hardest at the time, not to let on how dumbstruck Rivendell had left him. Kili had observed his brother, who'd in turn observed Thorin, and the unimpressed, aloof mask had been dutifully copied for the entire fortnight. That didn't mean he wasn't secretly fascinated, along with, he imagined, everyone else in the company on some level. It wasn't better, or more beautiful in their eyes than the homes they knew, but it was a whole other world, and that alone was due fascination.

For Kili it was the first time he'd been so far from home, and seen the homes of those who didn't share his race. His elders had been nomadic for a good portion of their lives, yes, but Kili and Fili had been mainly raised in the Blue Mountains, knowing a simple and removed home there among their displaced kin. If he'd seen elves, they'd been rare and swiftly passing through his Uncle's forge on their way elsewhere. The world was new to them, and Kili had gaped in Rivendell as much as he had in the quaint Shire. 

Hobbit women, however, besides being shorter and beardless, looked and dressed plenty like the lasses he'd grown up around (not that Kili was easy around lasses of any kind, they tended to either tease him or ask about his handsome brother, and always made his palms sweat). Elf maids were alien and strange, too tall, too slender, too...glide-y. For true, and he was fairly certain elf lasses didn't walk, but rather glided through Rivendell's streets. His uncle could go on all he might about the treachery of elves, Kili would've mistrusted them all on his own just by the gliding. It just wasn't natural. 

The Captain didn't glide, though she -was- plenty graceful. It was a different kind of grace, the fluid grace of a fighter. Tauriel strode, shoulders back, hair tossed in a ginger ripple, patrolling the halls that he gathered connected all of the company's cells. He'd only tried to call out to his friends once, though, and it had earned him a stern and promising glare from his jailer. That was another thing that oddly made her easier to talk to and even like, though, even if she did hold the keys to his prison. She wasn't like a merry lass, she was like a lady soldier, and Kili had been raised by soldiers. He was gathering, too, that these were little like the elves of Rivendell, Lord Elrond's people. These elves were wilder, sharper, fiercer.

Easier to understand, perhaps, for a young dwarf newly out in the world.

“Trouble outside?” He asked one evening when his meal was brought around, digging into the good food happily. Tauriel sighed, slumping against the far wall. Kili's was the last cell in the long stone hall, he'd gathered, and she always seemed to save him for last on her patrols, so they could chat. She'd been scarce for much of the day.

“More orcs than there ever should be this time of year, with autumn fading before the winter. And the King's all too ready to place the blame on your lot,” She turned her head, sending him a smirk, “I do not suppose you would like to own up to any mischief yet?”

“Better not suppose, no,” He grinned around a huge mouthful of biscuit, and was pleased to see it put a wider smile on her fair, lightly-freckled face. She really was pretty when she smiled. Not like a bonny lass from back home, or even one of the vaguely condescending elves of Rivendell. Just a lady, a warrior, putting off her cares for the moment. His palms didn't even sweat, but he swiftly chocked that up to her being, well...an elf. 

“I though it might be too much to hope,” She reached up, rubbing her temples, “Your brother sends along his love, by the by.” Kili brightened at this, smiling wide. Tauriel smiled in turn, when she saw this, “You're very close.” It wasn't a question.

“He's...always taken care of me,” The dwarf murmured, licking gravy from his fingers, “For all the lasses and the warriors like him better, he's always looked out for me. His tag-along, when we were lads...” Kili guarded his tongue when it came to his family though, much as food loosed it. Tauriel was kind, but she was still an elf. She'd apparently picked up on his reluctance, tilting her chin up, regarding him. He gave her a wary glance back, over his venison and greens. Her eyes narrowed as she smiled. She was getting to know him. That should bother him, but it really didn't.

“That reminds me, something you said some days ago...” Her green eyes went to her knives, then, which her long fingers moved over absently. What Fili wouldn't give to have his hands on such blades, Kili noted distractedly, “You said folk call your brother the better looking one,” Instinctively the young dwarf stiffened, but Tauriel's face was sporting that familiar, simply-curious expression he'd come to recognize. The one that meant she only wanted to understand something new to her, “What makes a dwarf handsome, among his kin? Or a lady dwarf lovely?” 

Kili did have to laugh at that, shrugging. What a question! But if he though on it, he really didn't know what made an elf stand out among her or his kin either. They all sort of looked the same to him. Well, except for Tauriel... “Well...” He cleared his throat, wiping crumbs from his face with the back of his sleeve, “A fine and tended beard is always desirable,” He grinned at the way her thin brows went up, “Full and thick, to go with a fine, strong figure. For lads, anyway, means you're strong enough to provide and to protect. Women aren't born often, lots of us see them as much a treasure as our gold or gems,” Kili shrugged again, “Lasses are a bit different...their beards they treat like fine jewelry, if you will. Not so much bein' thick, as bein' adorned and well-trimmed, trussed up with the fine things their men mine and craft for 'em. But then, while that's what most like, different folk have their different tastes, like any race I imagine.” 

He'd never really thought on it, but the humans he'd known in the Blue Mountains had varied tastes too. Some of their women liked strong warriors, some bards with clever tongues. Bilbo had told him how some Hobbits liked their lasses full and stout, while others (generally Tooks, he'd said only halfway-disapprovingly which...Kili had no frame of reference for) lost their heads over lean, sprightly lasses who climbed trees. Tauriel seemed very amused, her face changing with entirely new and alien information. It made Kili grin again.

“So, by that reckoning then, among your company, the most desirable to Dwarf lasses would be...?”

“Well, Thorin first of course, bein' who he is and with his reputation, and still being young enough for our people,” Kili shrugged, distantly wondering what his uncle would think of him, telling all these things about their people and customs to an elf. “After him, though? Dwalin or Gloin, no question,” He all but laughed at her dropped jaw, “By my honor! They're both in their prime, beards thick and their deeds in battle great, and Gloin's red of hair. It's, erm, uh,” He cleared his throat there, “...A rare and...desired thing, among our people. His wife is the same, considered one of the famed beauties among our people.”

“...Really?” Tauriel's head tilted, her smile softening, the wear of the day showing on her, even as her beauty became apparent in her relaxed expression. Kili felt a distinct moisture in his palms, all of a sudden, “Red hair isn't thought much of, among my people.” She confessed, and the dwarf suddenly forgot his discomfort, his own jaw dropping as hers had done moments before.

“But your hair is so beautiful!” He blurted out, “I...I mean, for a lady without anything on her face, and all. The color!” He stammered, “Dwarf lasses would go to all kinds of mad lengths to recreate that color on their own heads!” Tauriel laughed, really laughed, the sound like bells in summertime.

“Oh the injustice of it all, then!” She sighed, “Ah, perhaps you could persuade a blonde dwarf lass to trade with me. I couldn't help with her beard though, sadly.” 

“Let me and my kin go, and I'll see what I can do,” Kili was proud of himself, for sending that back so swiftly. It made the weary, lovely elf Captain laugh, clutching her sides, and, well...that made him feel all right. 

“Nice try, friend.”

His uncle definitely wouldn't approve.

.

. 

.

.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That day when you've got the entire story mapped out and completed in your head. It's a lovely feeling! This one is flying out my fingers, which is good as I have other, much slower-moving stories that need updating. Again, much conjuncture on the friendship of Tauriel and Legolas at this point, I went ahead and wrote it the way I hope it plays out on screen.

.

.

.

.

Being back in the woods was rejuvenating, if eventually exhausting. Tauriel had missed the free air after all her hours in the depths of the hall, had missed her familiar trees, their leaves fading into the autumn colors. It wasn't the same sort of autumn, however, everyone felt it, and the power of their kingdom was only just holding the creeping, evil darkness back. Orcs prowled ever closer to the borders and in greater numbers; the giant spiders were riled into a frenzy still. And yet the King would not return her to her proper post for good. Tauriel was only relieving Legolas for a handful of days. Thranduil still wanted her guarding the dwarves, and while the task wasn't as loathsome as it had once seemed, Tauriel was still perplexed over what the King thought she could glean, that others could not. She was honored by his faith in her skill, at least.

“I haven't the faintest idea how you've put up with this lot,” Legolas called to her in common, when she returned from her last shift in the woods, trading their places at her usual post by Kili's cell. Tauriel glanced, eyes narrowed, at the dwarf. Kili only gave her a cheeky smile in return. “Babbled madness the entire time. I don't think they're as lucid as my father believes them to be, perhaps the dark deep of the forest truly did addle their minds...”

“Ah, well,” Tauriel noted, flatly, eying Kili's all-too-innocent expression, “...They do grow on one, in the same manner as a simple-minded pet would, I suppose.” She bit down a smirk, as an indignant sputter left the young dwarf's lips before he could stop himself. Tauriel lifted her voice a touch, catching Legolas' attention, “Your father is waiting on your report.”

“Of course,” Her friend smiled wide, clasping shoulders with her briefly and bidding her farewell in their native tongue. Tauriel took her seat against the wall, watching him go until he'd turned a corner. Her sharp gaze flew back to her charge then, arching a brow. “Babbling madness, eh?”

“Simple-minded pets?!” He had such the look of a wounded pup that Tauriel had to laugh, rolling her aching shoulders and shaking her head. She sighed in relief, as she took off her plates of armor, setting them aside.

“Babble madness at the Prince, suffer the consequences,” She quipped, and that put a grin back on his face.

“My but he -was- fun to mess with!” Kili said with relish, watching as she brushed out her hair, once she was down to her tunic, leggings, and soft boots. Tauriel was used to this by now, her evening ritual fascinating him. They'd even had lively discussions about Elven armor. It did tend to warm the tips of her ears, though, the way he seemed especially and unabashedly fond of her hair. Tauriel was fair certain he saw it as more a -thing- of beauty as opposed to a beauty of -hers-, but...still. It was flattering. She stubbornly kept it at that. 

“He kept on asking all the same questions over and over, as if days on end of being prodded by you hadn't already happened,” Kili went on, still looking pleased as punch with himself, “So I began goin' on about nightmares of spiders, and how the walls were startin' to bend!”

Tauriel snorted at that, “All right, that's clever,” She allowed, resting the side of her head against the cool wall as she watched him, arms resting on her knees, “I'd be a poor friend to him indeed if I did not laugh a bit at his little miseries.” That mischievous grin of his flashed once more.

“So, that was the Prince, y'said?” Kili glanced through the bars down the hall as she nodded in reply, “Kind of...ladyish. But then, all your Elf men are.” He shrugged, a bit too carelessly to be genuine. Tauriel chuckled.

“He's actually considered to be an excellent catch to most of our kin, being both a Prince and very handsome.”

“That's what Elves find handsome?!” His brows went comically high, his grin widening, “No wonder you spend so much time 'round us, then! How do you even tell the ladies from the men?! ...Er, I mean, not that, that you...look like a man, I mean the men look like ladies, and...” She couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up, over his flustered face. 

“There's...little of a division, when it comes to physical beauty, true.” Tauriel shook her head, smiling, “Many do find the same things lovely in both sexes, fine features on fair faces, bright eyes, noble brows. Fierceness in battle is generally prided among the men of my kin, though, while music and cleverness is thought to be primarily the realm of women. At least in our youths.” She shrugged, “But as you said yesterday, folk have different tastes. Those are simply how it usually is,” She glanced back at him, smiling at his furrowed brow as he took in the new information, “I promise you, my people would not all look so alike in your eyes, if you came to know them.”

“Not much chance of that, dwarves, elves, you know how it is.” He said it kindly though, smiling earnestly, “I know you don't look like all the rest.”

“That is because you know me,” She cleared her throat, looking away, but saw him shaking his head in her periphery. 

“No, you're different, you're kind,” He maintained, assured of his opinion, and while Tauriel maintained that so were many of her kin, such an opinion of her coming from him, in the situation the young dwarf was in and all, warmed her heart. 

“Thank you...”

There was quiet for a moment, Kili twiddling his thumbs in their leather gloves, Tauriel shutting her eyes and letting her muscles relax slowly. And then,

“...So, you and that lady-ish Prince...?”

“Valar, no!” Tauriel snorted, her knees coming up to her chest as she chuckled. “No, Legolas has been dear to me since childhood, for sure, but only as a brother and trusted friend.” She smiled at the dwarf, who looked newly-curious, “Neither of us are of a mind to find a partner anyway, we're much too young. Elves tend to look for love when flighty youth has passed and life is slower, and they've great deeds to their names, both women and men.” 

“It's the same with my folk, then,” Kili nodded, “Might not live -as- long, but we do live long,” He grinned, “Mind, plenty younglings rebel! My mother as it goes, she married younger than me. Made uncle powerful mad, 'til my father proved himself.”

“How'd he do that?” Tauriel found herself asking, drawn into the tale. Kili laughed, a rich, warm sound that she'd come to be very fond of.

“Beat the tar out of 'im!” The dwarf told her, one fist meeting his palm, “Unarmed combat for her honor. They were good friends after that...well, so m'told. He died when I was still inside her belly...” His voice trailed off, eyes on his knees, that guarded mask returning. Tauriel nodded, needing to know no more than that. 

“...Did she ever marry again?”

“Nah, not for want of suitors though,” Kili took in a breath, his merry smile back in place, if more subdued, “She's a beauty, too, still fair and young. Mr. Dwalin's been in love with her for years. But...well,” He shrugged, “It's one of the reasons we're told to wait until we're grown to fall in love, aye? Heart's broken young, it stays broke for a long time, s'what we're all told when we're little.” He'd brought it back around to the generalities of his race and away from his family, Tauriel did not miss it. He was cleverer than even he gave himself credit for, and it made her smile softly. “...And she had two sons t'raise.”

“Of course,” The elf mused, “We're told so often of how fleeting the other races' lives are, I'd never thought these kinds of things would be so similar...”

“Well, just cause you live longer doesn't mean all the same kinds of things don't happen, they're just...” He frowned, looking for the right words, “...Stretched out.” Tauriel bit her lip, grinning again.

“I suppose that is one way to put it...” She murmured, their eyes meeting for a moment, bright green and dark brown.

“...Now, for something that's -really- been buggin' me,” Kili cleared his throat loudly, fidgeting where he sat, his ears going a bit red, “...How come your folk eat proper food, while in Rivendell they eat like rabbits?”

“Ah, well, that...” 

And thus, the rest of that evening was spent in a lively discussion over regional cuisine. 

.

.

.

.

.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like the idea, for the film, of whatever bit of attraction being one-sided and hilarious. While this will be a bit more than that, a smitten dwarf pleases me greatly. Also, obligatory "Poor Bilbo life is so hard".

.

.

.

.

It was midnight, or so Kili figured. His small cell was without windows, but there was a small grate out in the hall and he'd learned to tell time by the square of hatched moonlight it cast on the floor. Which went to show how long they'd been imprisoned, which felt like a damned long time. Not that any of the company had much to complain about as far as their treatment was concerned. From all he could gather, no one had been abused or mistreated. The food was good and the cells were warm. Kili could feel himself putting back on weight and strength, both of which had been sapped as they starved slowly in Mirkwood, and made a point of moving around his cell when he could to stay spry.

But winter was coming on outside, and if they were waylaid there for much longer they'd miss their chance at the Lonely Mountain. And of course he missed his friends, his brother and his uncle, for all that they were only a few walls away. There hadn't been any news of Bilbo at all, and Kili had been clever enough not to ask, remembering the Hobbit's ring and how it had gotten them away from the spiders.

If there was one thing Kili could say, at least, it was that he wasn't lonely. 

Tauriel was asleep at the moment, outside of arm's reach from his bars. Kili knew this, because he'd once, on impulse, tried to touch her hair while she slept against the wall, and had come just short. He didn't think it would have been rude of him, it was just...such a fine color, yet so smooth, like burnished metal turned orange by a forge. Her face was smooth as well when she slept, lightly freckled and pale, her lips a pale pink. Her's was a strange and alien beauty to him, and no mistake, but beauty it definitely was. He'd tried not to dwell on that fact, but it was difficult when she was his only company, as well as kind, quick, and strong.

The elf was beautiful, she was his friend, and he really liked her. Was that really so wrong, liking her? Thorin would think so, but then, Thorin had his deep-rooted reasons behind his harsh opinion of any and all Elves. The others might not think it so strange, that Kili called her a friend. She was kind to all of them, after all, always making sure they were all fed and kept in reasonable comfort. Kili knew, deep down, that it was a bit more than just liking her, though. But even that didn't seem so wrong, as it was a small, private emotion. One that might be fleeting and due to his situation, and certainly wouldn't be returned. 

It was what it was, the young dwarf supposed. 

She wasn't sleeping with her eyes open that night either, which was rare, and made her far easier for Kili to look on (which he did, for long and with a strangely anxious heart). It was also probably why Bilbo finally decided to make himself known. “Goodness, but she never leaves you alone!” Kili started on his mat, sitting up at the sharp whisper he'd heard by his ear, near the bars, “I'd been to all the others' cells three days ago!”

“Bilbo!” Kili whispered back, happily, and then paused, as Tauriel shifted slightly in her sleep. He held his breath, until her breathing returned to the steady thrum of slumber, “...You're...?”

“Yes, I am, and I'm...trying to think of how to get you all out of here,” Bilbo's whisper went softer, and Kili had to strain to hear, “Thorin's fine, though they question him daily.” Kili was aware, but somehow felt badly admitting to all that he'd gleaned just now, “This fortress is a maze, though! Even invisible the patrols have almost tripped over me, I'm quite out of my depth here!”

“You were brilliant with the spiders, though,” Kili whispered back, encouragingly, “You and Thorin will come up with some clever plot of escape, I've no doubt!”

“We're trying,” Bilbo grumbled, and Kili could just imagine the Hobbit's disgruntled expression, “...Any chance she's told you anything, about how the patrol schedules work, other ways out of the cellars...?”

“No,” Kili answered, honestly, though his throat went a little dry, “We talk plenty, but don't give on many important things.”

“I've noticed.” There was a distinct, wry tone there, and Kili glared in the general direction of Bilbo's whisper, “Oi, just saying! I've not got much else to do but eavesdrop! Keep talking, even her just being here much of the time allows me to test the water a bit, skulk around the cellars and locks.”

“That...that I can do.” Kili swallowed, eyes on Tauriel's face once more.

.

.

.

 

“Do you live in this palace?” He found himself asking one day, when she showed up around noon. Tauriel laughed, shaking her head and sliding his usual lunch fare of bread, cheese and beer between the bars. That was one thing the elves couldn't brag about, Kili thought. For all that their wines were good, their beer was terrible. Dwarves definitely had the market cornered in that respect. Hobbits too, really, he recalled some truly delicious brews back at Bag End.

“My home is outside these halls, as I'm neither royal nor even noble, really.” She told him lightly, restlessly pacing back and forth in the hall. Like some spirited pony, kept inside on a summer day...and good glory, when had he started thinking in flowery terms? They'd do Dori proud, he expected. “I prefer the tree tops to the ground, anyway. Better vantage point.” She smirked, “You didn't see our dwellings in the trees, but they're a sight to behold. I've one all my own.”

“I didn't see, no, we were blindfolded as you'll remember,” Kili smirked, pleased that this made her look just a bit bashful, “You live on your own, then? No mother or father?” That was an odd thought. In his world parents, lads and lasses tended to live together long after adulthood, until they left to start their own households.

“Aye, my mother died long ago, and my father could not linger on long in this world without her,” Tauriel smiled, though, as if this didn't much pain her. That was curious,“Elves don't love lightly, you see,” She went on, perhaps in answer to his perplexed frown, “We live long, and thus love deeply, in solemn bonds that last for such lengthy lifetimes...” Her expression softened, perhaps with her memories, “Their souls were one. Without her, only the call of the sea remained.” She shrugged, finally sitting down with her back against the wall. “I've had their home since. Though of late it has felt as if I really do live here.” She tacked on wryly, and Kili grinned.

“Yeah? The palace all you thought it would be?”

“Hmm,” The elf glanced about them at the hard stone floors, his simple cell, and sent him a grin in reply, “Not exactly, no.” He found himself busting out with a laugh.

“Suppose not down here, no, for all I've had livin' in a palace talked up to me t-...er,” He just stopped himself. Damnit all, he'd been doing so well lately, too, at not letting things slip! But then again, Kili had gathered a while back now, that Tauriel likely knew far more than she let on. She'd known he and Thorin were Durin's kin that very first night, after all, so long ago now... 

...At that thought he found himself letting out a long, weary sigh. The sheer amount of time they'd been down there, that he and his kin had been imprisoned, that he'd been parted from his brother, was suddenly hitting him full-force. It was so easy to forget sometimes, around her. But the truth was they needed to leave, would no doubt force an escape plot soon, and there would be certain things about this whole chapter of their journey that would bother the young dwarf for a long while after it, he was sure.

“You know who we are,” Kili found himself voicing his thoughts, slowly, looking up at her through his messy hair. Tauriel blinked at him, meeting his gaze with her own suddenly guarded one. He pressed his lips together for a long moment, studying her bright eyes for any guile or lies, “...And since you do, your King must guess where we're heading. What is he waiting for us, for Thorin, to say, that he hasn't already guessed?” He was being clever just then, and imagined his uncle would be proud. 

“...I don't know, Kili.” She replied gently, honestly, the barrier in her own gaze dropping, “I can't claim to understand his aims at all, I have puzzled over them myself. But I am....obediently following the orders of my King.” She drew in a breath, looking away from him. As if she couldn't face his stare any longer. “I cannot be more truthful than that.” 

“...Well,” Kili finally blew out a breath, deflating, scooting to sit against the same wall she was propped up against. Only that row of immovable bars was between them. “Can't really blame you for that, I guess. It'd be like..” He squinted, trying to recall a phrase his mother had used once, “...The tongs calling the forge black.” That made her snort, her face crumpling into a grin again, eying him sideways with a chuckle.

“I'll need to remember that one,” She murmured, biting her lip for a moment, looking at him. “...I only wish you well. You and your kin. I do hope you know that.”

“And I you,” He smiled. And noted that his palms had gone distinctively sweaty. “...So! Tell me more about your parents, then...”

.

. 

.

.

.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, slight changes due to supposed movie canon. Also, why doesn't Dorwinion wine come with a warning label?

.

.

.

.

Bilbo finally made his rounds again some nights later, telling each of the dwarves to be prepared to move the next night. The Hobbit had watched the Elf Captain, looked out for moments when the keys weren't on her person. A great feast was planned for the following night, and Bilbo thought he might have the best chance at nicking them then, as none of the other guards seemed keen on missing it. Kili felt an odd stirring in his chest. A strange mixture of relief, terrified excitement, and a touch of longing. Without thinking his eyes fell on his sleeping guard, the merry light that had come on his face over the prospect of escape and freedom fading slightly. 

“Oh come now,” Bilbo's whisper was practically jolly, “All you must do is kill a dragon, and then you two will be bickering next door neighbors with a sizable hedge between you before you know it.”

“Oh well, if that's all we've got to do, then...”

.

.

Despite popular opinion among the ranks, Tauriel, Captain of The Mirkwood Guard, was not adverse to feasting and merry-making in the slightest. In that respect she was a proper wood elf indeed, her duties simply demanded much of her free time, even before the dwarves had come into her care. There had been many gatherings she'd missed over the years as she worked her way up to command, but she never missed the last great Autumn Feast of the year. 

Threats from the outside or not, Thranduil held fast to their traditions and promised his people their harvest celebrations in no less grand a style than they were accustomed to. Before midday even the Woodland halls were already filled with the savory aromas wafting from the kitchens. Baked apples and venison and fresh bread assaulted the senses, and put the Captain in a very fine and merry mood, which in turn made her look like the young and bonny elf maiden she was, at least when there weren't things to be killed.

“Bless me, you look nearly normal!” Legolas exclaimed as soon as Tauriel arrived in the lower levels, late that afternoon. She was to make one last round of the prisoner's cells, bringing them their dinners before joining in the party upstairs, and as such she'd already dressed in a layered gown of moss green and rust-red velvets, golden flowers stuck all through her ginger hair. “I think my father has that same frock, actually.” The prince noted, head tilted, already in his own fine clothes and deep into his first cup of wine.

“Which says more of him than of me, I believe.” Tauriel smirked, taking down her belt from the wall of the guard post and buckling it low over her hips. The heavy iron keyring clanked against her daggers, and Legolas shook his head again, chuckling.

“Likely. Will you be long with your charges?”

“Maybe,” Tauriel replied, carefully, suddenly feeling a little sheepish, “...To be honest? I'd thought to linger down here for a while, until the festivities above were well along, and well lubricated.” She knew Legolas would understand. The courtly posturing and niceties that peppered the very start of a feast, were two notches above sheer torture for the both of them. As such, they'd always waited until some time after the feasting and dancing had started before joining in with their high-born kin.

“Perfect,” Her friend grinned wide, motioning in the direction of the storerooms. “We'll have a good long while before they think to send up the best wines, and rumor has it they've brought in some Dorwinion vintage. I say we give it a good and thorough tasting, before it graces my father's table.”

“You know? You are quite the thoughtful son, my prince. Really, to think folk call you mischievous.” Tauriel smirked, “I shall join you in there shortly, then!” 

It was an infectious thing, really, the ability of Thranduil's people to be swept up in merry-making no matter what went on outside their borders. Tauriel fancied it was just what came of a race after thousands of years of keeping themselves closed off from the rest of the world, even after they'd entered into trade with their neighbors. Why should something like orcs on the borders keep them from a night of feasting and revelry over another goodly harvest? Whole shiftings of the world had not managed to do so. And while she counted herself as one of those who were a bit more concerned with her people's safety, being a soldier and a guard, Tauriel still thoroughly enjoyed being swept up in their more indulgent moods. At least sometimes. She was still young, after all. 

She also didn't see anything wrong at all with sharing at least a little bit of the merriment, whether it was appreciated by her charges or not. The dwarves all got the same dinner the rest of the palace was enjoying that night. On top of that, to Bofur Tauriel brought extra potatoes, Dwalin got a double-helping of venison (he even cracked a smirk at her in thanks), Gloin got salted pork, Dori got a splash of one of the better wines that were open for the night, and Bombur got a double helping of everything (triple of the cheese). Fili got crackers for his stew, and though he barely gave her a nod in acknowledgment, Tauriel slipped Thorin the very freshest of the bread that had left the oven that night. Try as the proud, lordly dwarf might to appear above it all, she'd caught him craning his head to catch the scent earlier.

And at the end of the long hall, along with his dinner, she slipped Kili a large oaken mug of the dark, frothy beer that had been rolled out from the storerooms. The scent drew him out of a doze in a comical double-take, sharp brown eyes falling on the brew. “That smells...” He plucked it up, taking a whiff before drawing in a long drought, smacking his lips and grinning, “Dwarven ale! For not likin' us much, your folk sure do like our bee-...” His words died on his lips as he looked up at her, and Tauriel watched as his eyes lost focus and his jaw went slack.

“...There isn't anything foul in it, if that's what you're wondering,” She grinned back, perplexedly lofting an eyebrow. He just shook his head, his eyes drifting over her form, and with a start Tauriel gathered what was the matter. She glanced away, unbound hair moving with her, feeling her ears warm, “There's ah, a feast tonight, if you...hadn't gathered from all the food. I'll be expected up there eventually, thus...” She looked down, self-consciously smoothing her skirts as she rambled and feeling...terribly out of her skin, all of a sudden. But he was grinning, slowly, standing up and nearing the bars.

“The flowers,” He cleared his throat, pointing, “...M-may I have a closer look?” 

Well, Tauriel didn't see the harm in that. She nodded, turning and kneeling to his level, her long mane of red hair heavy with the golden flowers. There were five of them, star-shaped, set with emeralds and framed in almost-paper-thin golden leaves. She felt a soft tug, swallowing hard as his fingers slipped through her hair. She had to smile, softly. She knew he'd wanted to touch it for so long, and it really didn't bother her at all. Quite the opposite really, she was discovering, shutting her eyes as she allowed him access. 

“...These aren't of Elvish make,” Kili murmured, after a few long moments of unabashedly playing with her hair, and Tauriel shook her head.

“My father bought them long ago in the town of Dale as a present for my mother, after he'd been long away from her,” She told him, glancing over her bare shoulder. He was smiling, shy and amused, letting the smooth tendrils of her hair fall from his fingers as she turned. 

“I'd guessed,” He cleared his throat, taking a step back from the bars, empty fingers now twitching at his sides, “My mother has some very much like those, silver set with dark blue stones, blue like her eyes...though, she hasn't worn 'em for a long time.” He admitted, looking up at her again through his hair, “...Y'look beautiful this night, Captain.” Valar help her, but something about his calling her by her preferred title, even when she was in her alien, courtly wear had her heart turning over in her chest as she stood, looking on him. She steadied herself with a hand on the bars, and felt the touch of his rough fingers on her long, slender ones.

“Surely, you've clearly been down here for far too long, now your mind truly is addled,” Tauriel murmured back with a soft smile, eyes on their hands. 

“S'possible, might be Mr. Dwalin'll have to knock sense back in my skull at some point,” He looked up at her, and she couldn't help meeting his gaze, “...M'glad I got to see you, before...well, before the feast.” Kili grinned again, but there was something hollow about it. Later, at her most frustrated, Tauriel would kick herself for not questioning it, for not staying, prying when he was distracted, giving in to whatever was transpiring if it meant she'd know his aims. But at the time, the hammering in her ears was just about deafening. 

Over a youngling -dwarf-. 

A good-humored, guileless dwarf, who was perhaps very handsome under all that unsightly scruff, true...

By all that was holy, she needed a drink.

“...A feast I'd best be getting to,” Tauriel said, anxious now to flee. She did leave his hand with a soft pressure, though, before hurrying back down the hall. Her best friend and strong wine, that was what she needed, and fast.

.

.

.

.

.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like the notion of a Kili/Bilbo friendship. Kili's young and impressionable, even in canon. The idea that he and his brother would be more receptive to the outside world is perfectly natural, except that they've also got this xenophobic uncle/father figure they're dying to impress and prove themselves to. Honestly, I feel like that's something all of us, myself especially, can relate to. I like this ship, but I never want to present it as OMG I AM ARE DAZZLED. Even Gimli's courtly love for Galadriel isn't like that. Gimli sees Galadriel as something beyond any mortal standards of beauty. Thus, I want to portray the way Kili sees Tauriel, and the way she sees him, as something beyond the fact that both are attractive by -our- standards. They're NOT attractive by each others' races standards, the last chapter included in this thought process. They're attracted to what they understand in each other.

.

.

.

.

.

Two long, lonely hours of sitting in his cell passed before Kili was startled by the distinct sound of a key turning inside of a lock, and the door to his prison creaking open in the semi-darkness. “Bilbo!” He rose, grinning, too pleased to be free to keep on with his brooding. It wasn't in his nature to brood anyway, not really. Bilbo let out a huff as he became visible again, removing his ring and tucking it into his waistcoat, “You started with me?” The young dwarf blinked, and the Hobbit nodded, smiling, looking a bit too cheeky for Kili's liking.

“You're one of the youngest and you've had the sense to keep spry. Not all your kin can say the same,” Bilbo grumbled at that last, and Kili chuckled, before stifling himself abruptly. The halls certainly seemed empty at the moment, but sound had a way of carrying down here, down through the bowels to who knows where. The both of them glanced about nervously, “...I'm going to tell you now, Kili, most of them won't like my plan. So I'm hoping you'll take my side and help me convince them of its benefits.”

“As long as your plan gets us out of here...” Kili trailed off, midway through gathering up his weapons from the wall across from his cell. He saw the large, heavy ring of keys in Bilbo's hands, and bit his lip, “How did you manage to swipe that off her?” 

“Oh! Well, thank the celebratory wine,” Bilbo smiled wide, “I hardly had to do anything more than slip the keys from the Captain's belt. She's comfortably snoozing away at a table down in the storerooms, her and the prince.” Kili couldn't help grinning at that, shaking his head. Tauriel certainly wouldn't be in a fine mood when she awoke.

“So, how -are- we getting out of here?”

Bilbo proceeded to explain, as Kili checked his bowstring, his knives, all of them unmolested. His own expression grew darker though, his eyes wider, until he was scrubbing a palm over his face in exasperation. And...oh, was his beard getting thicker?! There was one thing to be thankful for, he noted distractedly. “All right, well, if it's the -only- way out of here...” Kili sighed deeply, his head now concocting all kinds of unpleasant potential fates, ranging from drowning, suffocation, or at the very least a lot of deep bruising, “...then I guess it's the only way.” 

“It is,” Bilbo maintained stoutly, lofting his chin, “And unless you want me to go on at Thorin about how you were running your hands all through his jailers' long, ginger hair this evening, you'll help me convince the rest of them.” 

“...That was private,” The young dwarf grumbled, ducking his head. 

“So were a lot of other things I've seen while haunting this palace, I expect. Come on, let's get them moving.” 

It turned out that Bilbo spoke true, and not all of the company had kept themselves in the best shape over the course of their imprisonment. Bombur and some of the much older dwarves Kili could forgive, but Ori had no excuse for his jelly-legs. And none of them thought much of Bilbo's escape plan, though Kili did help him convince the lot that it was their only sure route out of the halls. Or at least, he helped convince them that grumbling would only alert their captors.

“Oi, managed to survive without me, I see!” Fili joked quietly as they embraced, tightly, outside of his cell.

“Just barely, aye,” Kili clutched close to his brother for a long moment. Never in their lives had they been a fortnight apart.

“Aye never fear, your brother was well looked-after,” Dwalin noted, clapping both boys' shoulders as he pushed past toward Thorin's cell. Kili pressed his lips together, but the tall dwarf said no more. Dwalin had been in the cell closest to Kili's, they'd discovered, and while there was plenty of space between each cell, he no doubt knew that Kili had gotten frequent company. Kili was fairly certain he'd hear about it later, when there wasn't a daring escape to be getting on with. At least Dwalin didn't say a thing to Thorin, when they finally freed his uncle. 

“Ever proving yourself to be a boon, Mr. Baggins,” Thorin noted. Bilbo winced.

“We'll see if you still think so when we're all stuffed in barrels.”

It was a far from silent adventure down to the storerooms, as Bilbo had feared, but the lower hallways and cellars did indeed seem to be completely deserted. The whole of Thranduil's court was busy making merry in the halls above, which was lucky. It did feel far more natural, being together as a whole company again, his kin all around him and his brother at his side, and all of them following Thorin. If Kili never saw that damned cell again, he grinned, it would be too soon. And yet...he glanced back over his shoulder. Well, he would miss one thing about this place. But he wasn't going to own up to that out loud.

They passed through the storeroom quietly, and Kili did have to bust out with a little chuckle. As Bilbo had said, there was Tauriel and the Prince, seated across from each other with their heads resting on their arms, a gentle snoring rising from the young Captain. “Dorwinion wine, and a very strong one!” Dori noted, smiling, waving Legolas' dropped cup under his own practiced nose. “We might yet alert some other elves with our noise, but these two will be deeply dreaming for hours yet!”

“She really was very decent,” Ori said quietly, passing by Tauriel's sleeping form,“She brought me chips tonight.”

“Let me keep m'pipe and tinder as well,” Bofur added, with a warm smile. At his side, Bifur made some gestures that Kili guessed were a vote of fondness for the elf as well.

“Aye, and there's no reason to be getting the young lass in trouble,” Dwalin surprised Kili by agreeing, and Thorin shrugged. But Kili did note that his Uncle nodded to Bilbo, who proceeded to slip back to the elf captain's side, sliding the heavy ring of keys back onto her belt.

“That'll save her some trouble when she wakes, anyway.” The Hobbit adjusted his suspenders, “They'll think you lot were magicked out of here!”

“Good, I could use that much more good luck and mystery to my name,” Thorin smirked, motioning them all toward the small room beyond the storerooms, where piles of barrels were stacked and waiting for them by a trapdoor. “Let us get this business done with. Fili, Kili, stand watch for anyone else who might show up.”

And so they did, standing by the doorway as the scuffling went on behind them. Finding Bombur a barrel took quite a while, and Thorin grumbled like a wolfhound being forced into a kennel too small for him, but it got done. All the while Kili felt his brother eying him at his side, more keenly every time his eyes fell to Tauriel again. She looked terribly undignified in her drunken slumber, and it put a little grin on his face in spite of himself. After a time, Fili was smirking too. 

“Mind your gaze there, little brother,” He noted, quietly, “That's an elf you're staring at.” Kili cast a frantic glance back, but the company was far too distracted to notice their hushed conversations. The younger brother sighed, heavily, looking back at the Captain as she snorted slightly in her sleep. His grin went sad.

“I know she is,” He murmured, “But I'll like as not never see her again, or if I will, it'll be as a Prince of Erebor, fate willing. And she'll not think of me, at least not kindly, not after tonight...” Kili swallowed, looking back at his brother, “So call it a shame that the first lass who snags my gaze has pointed ears if you will, but...”

“Nah, no worries,” Fili smirked, “The first lass who snagged your gaze is a decent sort, with good humors and a good fighter. S'all anyone need know.”

“Fili, Kili, you're next!” Balin called, and with a deep breath, Fili went in first. 

Kili took pause, licking his lips. He approached her form one last time, finding that she was of a level with him where she sat at that table. He reached out, brushing the long ruddy hair back from her fair, freckled face and tucking it behind one gracefully pointed ear. He would miss her. For all that being imprisoned (again) on their journey had been maddening and humiliating, meeting her had been one of the best chapters of his adventure yet. She'd been a bonny companion at best and a fair jailer at worst. And then as time went on...well. 

Perhaps he was simply young and foolish and caught up in his travels. She was not beautiful, not by dwarven standards anyway. But she -was- beautiful. And she was also kind, and she was strong, all things a proper dwarf, a prince of Durin, no less, was not supposed to admire in one of the Gentle Kin. But it didn't matter. It didn't matter if he was young and stupid or that she was an elf and his captor. Kili knew that he loved her, then, as fleeting and foolish as it might be.

Which was why, before he left to get stuffed into an empty barrel and thus eventually tossed into a raging river, Kili took the risk and kissed Tauriel's fair brow. His hands slipped through her long hair, for what he thought would be the last time, brushing the tips of her ears and causing her to smile and sigh in her sleep, through the pleasant dreams Dorwinion wine promised the drinker. “Thank you,” He whispered as a farewell into her hair, before turning and facing his fate with the river's rapids.

.

.

.

.

.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're all lovely people <3

.

.

.

.

“There'll be no value in the strength  
Of walls that I have grown  
There'll be no comfort in the shade  
Of the shadows thrown  
But I'd be yours if you'd be mine...”

.

.

.

.

They'd been pleasant dreams while she was having them, Tauriel remembered that much. What exactly all transpired in those dreams was swiftly chased from her memory by the harsh realities of the morning, far quicker than daylight alone usually swept away one's dreams. She did seem to recall, at least, that there'd been a tender caress, a kind word. Lips brushing her skin. These were little consolation to her, however, in the face of her own utter and complete failure. 

“How much trouble am I in?” She asked when Legolas joined her outside of Kili's empty cell. Her forehead was resting against the cool stone, her eyes closed in protest of the merciless headache the wine had left her with. Tauriel was abusing herself most thoroughly already, the wine was still scolding her for drinking it, and she could only imagine what punishment her King had lined up for her. She might even lose her rank. And she missed...

Legolas only shrugged, though, leaning back against the wall beside her. “Only as much trouble as I am in, I imagine,” He said, and Tauriel opened an eye, frowning. Legolas grinned. “Oh the King is furious, of course, but not at you and I. You were not exactly on duty last night, and you and your keys were in my company for the whole of the evening. No, when I left him father was quite content to be raging over the trickery of dwarves, not you and I for behaving like children.” 

“I cannot figure it out,” Tauriel growled, turning, though a weight did leave her shoulders upon knowing that no further punishment awaited her. Her eyes fixed themselves on the firmly locked cell door, and the dwarf who very much wasn't in there. “They were...tight-lipped and they were indignant, yes, but they weren't a crafty lot. In fact I was beginning to believe that long incarceration was doing its job, and that they'd give over whatever information your father wanted to hear soon. It was wearing on them, on their spirits...” She trailed off, stumbling over the vivid memory of clever hands all in her hair...

“It is more than likely that they'd some outside help in escaping,” Legolas went on, quietly. He was looking at her closely now, keen eyes searching her face. Tauriel pressed the back of her hand to her brow, taking a long breath. “Father thinks so, anyway. His faith in you and in his palace's defenses are unwavering.” She winced. 

“...Tauriel.”

“Legolas.”

“I know that you were...fond of this one,” Her gaze flew to his face, but her friend only smirked, “I only know this because I know you better than anyone does, do not worry.”

“Ugh.”

“It isn't in either of our natures to be as callous to outsiders as most of our kin are, and it has always been impossible for you not to befriend a fellow archer,” Tauriel did have to smile at that, nodding her head in allowance. Well, if that was all he'd guessed about her attachment to that endearingly defiant, scruffy Dwarf...

“...Whatever freed them surely was beyond me, I realize this. My anger isn't simply over the fact that I've been duped as a guard.” She finally admitted, reaching up and rubbing her temples, “...It is foolish, Legolas, but I feel ...betrayed.” Another wince. Speaking of her innermost thoughts was not generally in her nature, but then, this was her dearest friend she was confessing to, “He became my friend. But he was foremost my prisoner, and friendship didn't change that fact, and of course he'd escape if given the chance.” She spoke as if she were trying to remind herself of how stupid her irrational annoyance was. Which is exactly what she was trying to do.

“Exactly, and there is no harm in that,” Legolas shrugged, squeezing her shoulder and turning to go, “...But best let folk keep on thinking your scowl is only over their escape.” He winked. She chuckled, and then sighed, eyes on the ground as his footsteps faded out of hearing. Tauriel then took a step forward, her fingers slipping over the bars of the cell slowly, remembering the tentative touch of Kili's rough fingers. Her grip on the bars became like iron, as she suddenly remembered her dreams in full.

.

.

.

.

“I hope I never smell the smell of apples again!” Fili was saying, brushing straw out of his hair and beard, before taking hold of Bombur's other arm, meaning to help Kili haul the fat, sleeping dwarf out of his barrel, “Mine was full of it. To smell apples everlastingly when you can scarcely move,” He grunted, giving another great tug, “And are cold, and sick with hunger, is -maddening-. I could eat anything in the world right now, for hours on end, but...”

“But not an apple?” Kili grinned, as they finally unstuck their comatose kinsman.

“Not a bloody apple, no.” Fili cuffed his little brother upside the head. And then the two of them were laughing just over being free and clear, after nearly two days stuffed in a barrel. They were the only ones who were laughing though, as they helped Bilbo and Thorin unpack their extremely grumpy and battered elders. The brothers had had youth on their side, and their barrels had been smaller, more watertight, and as such they'd been bashed about far less than most of the other dwarves. Also...well, Kili at least had had some pleasant things to think on, even while stuffed into a barrel, that kept his spirits well, if not high.

His spirits were high now, though, and while stretching to wake his limbs he looked out over the vast lake, the floating town before them, and the distant hint of the Lonely Mountain looming over everything. Kili smelled food cooking, and nothing could keep the smile from his face then. There was still that nagging, tugging thing, though, that had him glancing back across the water, down the way they'd surely come. There was a sore place in his chest where something important had been removed, and it remained in the Woodland King's halls.

“Come on,” Fili was taking his arm suddenly, and Kili realized he'd missed another of his Uncle's long-winded speeches, “We're off to say hullo to our old neighbors.”

.

.

.

.

.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit more with the AU at this point. But never fear, I don't like going -too- far off the path, even with an "original" character (I put it in parentheses only because I firmly believe Tauriel is the product of simply making the canon jailer female and expanding the role). As far as REALLY off-canon things...well, that might get its own ficlet ;)

.

.

.

.

.

For all that rumors had spread throughout the halls regarding Thranduil's wroth, when Tauriel was summoned to an audience with him four days after the dwarves' escape, the King was quite composed. Dressed in autumn reds and golds, Thranduil stood contemplating his great oak throne, the yellow light of late afternoon drifting in through the large windows in the otherwise warm, enclosed stone hall. “Tauriel,” He turned at the slightest brush of her soft leather boots on the floor. She dropped to one knee before him, until he motioned for her to rise with the slightest flick of his hand. 

“My King,” She murmured softly, eyes on her own feet. She might've been his most trusted soldier, Captain of the Guard, and the close companion of his son for years unnumbered, but Thranduil was still her ruler, and she had always behaved accordingly, as such. He smiled now, if tightly.

“You need not be so contrite still, Captain.” The elf folded his clever hands, looking elsewhere, “There are more pressing matters now, than how our guests escaped us.” Tauriel arched a brow, “They've resurfaced, our own people have confirmed it. Thorin's company is, as we speak, residing in Laketown.”

“How?!” Tauriel frowned, even as her nerves leaped. Thranduil raised his pale palms in a shrug, with the fluidity only the very old among her people could manage. 

“Their escape from their cells is no less a mystery, though their escape from these halls seems clear enough,” He couldn't help but smirk, ever so slightly and very much wolfishly at this. Tauriel would find out why, later. He was no doubt picturing proud Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thror, son of Thrain, smuggling himself out of his palace stuffed in an empty, stinking cheese barrel, looking far from defiant and dignified. “Nevertheless. Thorin has done what he would not do before me, which is proclaim himself King under The Mountain. And he has done so before a whole settlement of Men, most of whom have long awaited the return of Durin's heir.”

“They actually...-actually- mean to go into Erebor?” Tauriel gasped, finding herself short of breath. Thranduil nodded, once.

“So it would seem,” He pressed his lips together in a grim line, “I am sending you, Tauriel, as well as my son, to Laketown.”

“...Beg pardon?” Tauriel blinked, and Thranduil smiled lightly, indulgently. 

“Attempting to reclaim them as our prisoners would be petty folly, with these new developments,” He said, “No, I would have this Dwarf Prince believe that we bear him no offense, only carry disapproval for his potentially waking a dragon.” Understanding grew in Tauriel's heart, then, and her expression became hard, closed-off. 

“Which would indeed be our fears, yes?” She shocked herself with her snide response. Thranduil only gave her a heavy look.

“...For all that you are fierce in battle, you've a gentle heart, dear Tauriel,” His voice was kind, then, truly, and he was the father of Legolas once again, “I value this, as my son is the same, and know that you have befriended one or two of the company. You are the very best ambassador I could send. I would be on good terms with this Prince.” 'For now' hung heavy in the air between them, though, and Tauriel bit her bottom lip hard.

A spy. He was sending her, and his own son, as spies.

“As my King commands.”

.

.

.

.

If there was one consolation to having one of the worst colds he'd ever had in his life, it was that Kili and his compatriots had gone from captivity, into the lap of utmost luxury in a matter of days. Nearly the whole of Laketown were celebrating Thorin's return, and as such the company had been given an entire, human-sized house for their stay. Kili and Fili had their own room all to themselves, their own human-sized beds, big and soft and comfortable. Never mind that much of their first couple of days were spent sneezing and coughing and recovering from the river in those beds, they were all theirs, and were surely the softest feather beds they'd ever had.

There were grand parties every night as well. The youngsters gathered, by listening, that much of the pomp over Thorin's company was more to the point that they'd no doubt return from the Lonely Mountain trailing gold and gifts for all of those who'd done them a good turn. While Thorin didn't exactly dispute this notion, he also didn't stop the Men of Laketown from throwing him feasts almost nightly. Kili found himself recovering from his headcold via fresh oranges and lemons, with honeyed mead and dark tea to wash it down, and plenty of merry glances from bonny human lasses. Not that any of them turned his head far...but it was nice!

They were also well-clothed, their traveling wares mended while finer things dressed them in the meantime. Weapons were repaired or replaced, and Kili found that, despite himself, he was sitting back and letting others mend things for him. He thought, just maybe, that they were entitled to this, at least a little bit, after all that they'd been through, and before all that they were about to face. 

And then the gates of Laketown swung open, and she rode through them, and he remembered all that he was.

She was garbed in ceremonial armor, the Prince of Mirkwood looking much the same at her side. The rest of the company groaned at what this might mean for them, but Kili was downright gleeful. Fili even said a word to their uncle, and it was that word that had the young dwarf down in the front courtyard before their house, greeting their former jailer with a wide, unabashed grin. “Well, fancy seeing you here.” Kili beamed. With a smirk, Tauriel dismounted and bowed low, toward Thorin, who stood in the doorway.

“Our king sent us to join in the festivities,” The words were innocent enough, but by her tone, it was clearly far more of an honest answer than Thranduil would have wanted her to give, and Kili saw it all over her face, saw it in the way Thorin tilted his head, scrutinizing the elf captain in her gleaming armor, her noble bearing. At last, after a moment that seemed to last hours and hours, Thorn smirked, shrugging.

“As you will, this city seems to be enjoying a long holiday,” He bowed in response to the Captain and the Prince, “I do hope you enjoy your time here. And I do think, perhaps, that you and I understand each other, Lady.”

Tauriel's fleeting gaze fell on Kili's face, at last, just then. He grinned wide, no power in the world able to stop him. She smiled back. She smiled back with merry lips, and with more life and warmth and merriment to her green eyes than he'd yet seen. Powers above save him, as he sneezed into one of Mr. Baggins' pocket handkerchiefs, Kili had never been more giddy in his life.

.

.

.

.

.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day on which I am convinced I've got cave troll fingers. Ah well.

.

.

.

.

“And so the king who held us captive has sent pawns to keep an eye on us,” Thorin murmured darkly to his nephews, upon drawing them both aside after terse niceties were done with. His eyes didn't leave the small elven company, however, as they led away their horses. “...I tell you now, I bear our jailer no ill, except for serving who she does. She is a woman and a straightforward one, if still an elf. That Princeling, however, already has the same haughty, patronizing bearing of his cursed father,” Thorin ground out that last, pausing for a few moments to collect himself.

“...Yet he is young, and so is she. You two are young, and not so bitter as to loathe being in their company on principle yet,” His tone did lighten then, and Fili at least smirked. Kili, however, was twitching a bit in his boots. It was a good thing he was still suffering a fever, else his uncle might've noticed his nervous sweating. Had Thorin guessed at his attachment? But no, that seemed increasingly unlikely as his uncle went on, “Be in their company. Find out their aims if you can, if they're here to spy, if they mean to stop us entering Erebor by force. Mind yourselves, though.” He sniffed, “They're still elves, and thus still treacherous.” 

.

.

.

Her armor left behind at her own lodgings, Tauriel's moss-colored tunic was free to float around her knees as she moved through the fine home the dwarves had been lent. The oarsmen hadn't been exaggerating to Thranduil, Laketown truly was welcoming Thorin back like a King, even though he'd not yet won his kingdom back. The house was large, newer, well-stocked and well-furnished. Perhaps it had been an inn, Tauriel hadn't been to Laketown in some years. It would not be hard on the town to let it out, as it was not generally the time of year for travelers. Except for a company of dwarves who didn't quite fit the house. The sight of her friend being...well, dwarfed...as he sat nursing his flu on a bed built for Men, had fixed a smirk on her face.

“For keeping you in such comfort and fine clothes, these human townfolk do not seem aware of how to treat a common fever,” She murmured, long fingers squeezing lemon halves into a pungent, herbal tea she'd brewed with her own rations from the forest. Behind her, Kili took a comical look down at himself, as if just noticing what he was wearing. Tauriel's smile widened, shaking her head.

“I'd much rather be back in my traveling stuff, really,” He admitted, hands picking at the embroidery in the fine blue tunic he wore. 

“You look the part of a prince,” She said, handing him his medicinal tea, and he shrugged, even as he gave her that terribly endearing grin of his, all wide, merry and boyish.

“I was never going to make much of a Prince, that was put on Fili's shoulders long ago...ugh!” He wrinkled his nose after one sip of the steeped elven herbs, “Tastes like a dirty forest floor with a bit of fruit in it!”

“That's about the measure of it, yes,” Tauriel chuckled, sitting by his feet on the bed, “But it will clear your sinuses, ease any aches, and it will bring your fever down in a matter of hours, I promise you.” The dwarf grumbled, but to his credit he kept on drinking, wincing the whole time. Tauriel leaned back on her elbows, watching amused as Kili dedicated himself to the consumption of the truly terrible medicinal herbs and moss. There were no cultural divides about it, even her own people hated the taste. But it worked.

“...All right, so my head is clearing,” He allowed at length, smacking his lips and setting his cup aside when he was done, “You should give some of this to the others who're laid up. Might have to sneak it though, already tastes like foul bloody poison and I doubt most of 'em would trust you with their food anyhow.” Kili grinned, and Tauriel tilted her head.

“And yet they're trusting me to be in your company? One of their youngest?” 

“...Well,” The dwarf cleared his throat, pushing himself up to rest against his headboard. He looked to be puzzling over something for a few moments, his brow furrowing. Finally he simply sighed, shrugging, looking at her in that open, honest way that had made her like him so, “So, I'm supposed to be spying on you.” Tauriel snorted, laughing over his candor.

“That is quite all right, Prince, for I am supposed to be spying on you as well.” 

“Ha! I knew it,” He grinned wide at her, folding his hands in his lap, “Judging by how you failed to get much of anything out of me when I was locked up, well...forgive me if I'm not terribly worried, Captain.” Her green eyes narrowed, though her merry smile remained.

“Just because I did not gather from you what Thranduil wished to hear, does not mean my time was wasted.” It was meant to be a quip, but. Tauriel glanced away from him, pressing her lips together as hours of pleasant conversations returned to both of their minds. Stories shared, his hand touching hers...Kili nudged her arm with the toe of his boot, catching her attention and grinning again. Tauriel smirked, “How -did- you escape?”

“Barrels, haven't you heard?” She punched his boot. “Oi! Right, well...” Kili paused again, but only smiled, “We had help, but that is all I might say. You...you didn't get into any trouble, did you?” He suddenly looked so earnestly concerned, and Tauriel felt herself becoming far too at ease under his steady gaze. 

“No. I imagine my King would much rather horde and nurture his wroth for venting upon your uncle, if the time comes for that.” She admitted.

“...He's not going to try and stop us, is he?”

“Not as far as I am aware,” Tauriel shook her head, “He wishes Legolas and I to dissuade you, of course, but only with words. He'd not have you wake a dragon's wroth, and he's loathe to send his own people near one.”

“As I have been told,” Kili noted, pointedly. Tauriel arched a brow his way, but the dwarf just smirked, “You'll not deny it.”

“No I will not,” She sighed, looking away. His weapons were by the door, propped against the wall as casually as a child might leave their playthings. Something about this little fact, that he was still so carefree and merry and assured, made that thing in her chest twist and churn, thinking on where his kin planned to take him before long. Because murmur and doubt as some in the town might, Tauriel knew Thorin was very much bent on raiding the mountain. And he was taking his nephews with him. “...Why are you risking this?” She gasped.

He looked at her as if she'd just asked him why he breathed the air, or ate. Perhaps she had, Tauriel mused, swallowing her terror. “Because we must.” Kili finally answered her, smiling faintly, “Did you not tell me, of your long days defending your home? Or beating back the darkness from those halls you love?” Tauriel sighed, but Kili only went on, leaning toward her, “What would you do, if the darkness did take your home? You'd damn well take it back!”

“Yet you've never even seen Erebor, Kili,” She murmured, reaching for his hand without thinking. He took it without hesitation. “You'd risk your own life for a place you've never seen?”

“I would for the man who'll be my King, who's already been my father,” He replied, just as gently, his voice solemn and deep and much older, his eyes fixed intently on her face. And then just as swiftly, there was that bright, cheeky grin again, the one she never could keep herself from catching, not even now. “If I didn't know any better Captain, I'd say you were worried for me.”

“It's a good thing you're so very daft, then.”

.

.

.

.

.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only that the idea of Awkward!Legolas and Fili amuses me greatly.

.

.

.

.

“So.” Legolas glanced about the courtyard.

“So.” Fili shifted from one foot to the other, rolling his shoulders, glancing up at the window of the room he shared with his brother. 

The elf scratched behind a pointed ear.

The dwarf eyed the horizon, wondering if it were going to rain soon.

A long silence. And then,

“I've noticed your fine daggers,” Fili said. Legolas brightened somewhat.

“As I've seen yours. Shall we go slice up some strawmen?”

“Aye, let's!”

.

.

.

.

It was a day or two later that found Kili right as rain and better. He couldn't very well go far outside, however, what with the blind merriment the town had been whipped into. A dwarf could hardly show an ear or a long nose in Laketown without earning themselves a shouting, merry frenzy. In the end, Tauriel came up with a brilliant plan for exposing him to some fresh air, and after some clever maneuvering of cloaks and oarsmen, the two of them were lunching in a rowboat far out on the massive lake. The Lonely Mountain loomed over them, as it loomed over everything within sight really, but for the moment neither of them seemed to notice. Or at least, Kili thought, maybe they were both pointedly ignoring it.

“By all counts, mother was a merry lass at my age, aye” He was answering one of her questions, cutting their lunch of bread, cheese and sausage into portions with his hunting knife, “My uncle even says I've got the same damned, foolhardy madness in my veins,” He smirked, handing her a hunk of bread, “Off exploring tunnels and towns, Dis even dressed as a peasant maid once or twice and went poking around Dale. She could never stay still for long, least not before...well, before my father and grandfathers died.” 

“...If not for some obvious differences, I gather that our mothers would have agreed on much, then,” Tauriel smiled around her skin of wine, and gods help him, that smile. Kili felt himself staring, and didn't bother to stop, “Lathrien was always getting into trouble. She once rode all the way to Dale, in fact, while still a child, just to see what Dwarfs and Men looked like,” She chuckled. “She came back with many a notion that upset her parents, apparently.”

“So a high tolerance for Dwarfs runs in the family, then?” Kili asked. She shot him a look, smirking. 

“Perhaps. At least a tolerance for the smell.” She winked. In that moment, he'd no idea what possessed him. But possess him the impulse did, and that's when Kili lunged at her, tackling her to the floor of the boat and sending their food flying.

“Take it back!” He cried, laughing, successfully capturing her in a headlock as their boat swayed on the current. The elf growled, grinning, looking over her shoulder with an indignant snort.

“Your lot smell like the back end of a caravan!” She called back with a laugh, and while she might've been taller than him, Kili imagined that the two of them were on par as far as strength was concerned. Nevertheless, it seemed almost too easy to flip her around, pinning her back to the sturdy canoe bottom and grinning down at her in triumph.

“Deny your claims!” He called out in his best, most majestic battle cry, while under him she shook her head, laughing, all of her red hair splayed out on the raw wood. Suddenly, yet not surprisingly, he was taken up with her flushed face, her bright eyes, that red, red hair. Her slim, sinewy and strong form under his hands, moving slightly. Kili found himself dry-mouthed, swallowing, a similar expression moving over the elf's face.

“You...” She murmured, finally, the corners of her lovely, peach-pink lips twitching upwards, “Stink.”

“You've never complained about it, not 'til now,” Kili heard himself rumble in reply, dipping his head and burying a hand in all of that bonny red hair. He kissed her then, his first, proper kiss. Not with some sympathetic dwarf maid or curious human lass, no, he kissed her because he loved her, wanted her. And after only the slightest of pauses, of shaking breaths drawn through her nose, during which Kili thought he might die of embarrassment ten times over, she kissed him back. 

She very much kissed him back.

Her hands, suddenly free, as his own were busily swimming through her hair, flew to his neck, framing his jaw, brushing the beard there with tentative, curious thumbs. She'd never felt that, like as not, his very distracted mind managed to remember. His own hands brushed her pointed ears, and felt himself nearly lose command of his senses when it made her gasp into his mouth, her back arching up, her teeth sinking into his lower lip. Another growl bubbled up in his throat and he managed to kiss her properly, long and deeply and tasting the tang of something wild and sweet on her tongue.

“Tauriel...” He whispered, drawing back to look on her, finding her flushed and wide-eyed and drawing in deep breaths, and all he wanted in the world, in that moment, was to kiss her again. She beat him to it, though, grabbing the lapels of his leather duster and dragging him in for another long, mind-muddling meeting of their lips. Her tongue met his once more, and this time Kili had a better idea of what to do, brushing her ears with the back of his hands and kissing her back, kissing her with all that he'd held in since the Woodland Halls.

“...Valar,” She gasped, drawing away, shaking her head.

“...Right, those lot,” Kili gulped, trying to catch his breath as well, sitting back in the rowboat with a thunk. A bit of space between them, the elf and the dwarf regarded each other with wide, unsure eyes, for all that they'd been sure of themselves in each others' arms. “...I love you,” He finally breathed, his anxiety threaded all through his words, his eyes pleading, “I have since you fought a giant spider off of me, and dragged me off as your prisoner,” The admission left his lips without hesitation, and her answering, merry smile and ruddy cheeks only gave him courage, “Tauriel, you are all that a lady should be and more, and I tell you that I love you...”

“Powers above save me,” She gasped, looking away and out over the water. Of course, what must she think, having a member of what she saw as a lesser race proclaiming himself to her...but no, Tauriel defied all that he'd been told about elves yet again, looking on him with a soft smile and wet eyes, “For all they hoped I'd fall for that hunter, years ago...” Kili instantly hated him, “For all folk still think that one day, Legolas and I will look on each other with new eyes,” Skill with a bow or not, Kili now hated the prince too, “...The first to stir my heart is a foolhardy dwarf.” She smiled, and Kili dove for her once more, taking her face in his hands and kissing her a third, sweet time. 

“...Your uncle will murder me.”

“And me, probably,” Kili swallowed, sliding his hands through her hair yet again, unable to help himself and she wasn't stopping him, “...One day I'll be a prince.”

“Oh, so now you'll acknowledge it?” Tauriel grinned, bending to rest her forehead on his shoulder. Kili gulped.

“I will,” He murmured, stroking her hair, “I'll tell the whole of the world what I desire, and what I desire shall be you,” He spoke, knowing exactly how young and foolhardy he sounded. But then, so be it. Kili was as he was, he realized, and if this was who he was...if holding dear in his heart a member of another race was his fate...well, being a Prince would only help him, “If any of my race were to be so blindsided by your beauty, I might be the best,” He grinned, and she laughed, and by the powers that be, it was the sweetest sound to his ears.

“So then,” She sighed, “...Until you are a Prince, I suppose all we have is this boat.”

“Indeed,” Kili agreed, regally, “...Let us get our worth from it!” He laughed, and she laughed, and the rowboat did not see mooring until evening was falling.

.

.

.

.

.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did have a sad, that the lads didn't have their fiddles in the film. In my head, the damn things totally survived the journey.

.

.

.

.

“It is sundown,” Legolas greeted her mildly, when she returned to their modest room at Laketown's inn. His eyes remained fixed on the book he was reading, reclining back on his bed, and yet his wry smirk was difficult to miss. Tauriel tossed him a sharp look as she set her winter cloak aside, but the prince only smiled wider. 

“In case you've forgotten, friend, it is nearly winter. Dusk comes earlier.” 

“Ah true. My mind must be fogging up, hrmm...still, that would be oh,” He looked up, ticking off the time on his long fingers, “Five hours, that have passed since midday?”

“...You smell like a stable.”

“And you smell like a beard.”

“Very amusing,” Tauriel glared, but could feel her face growing warm in spite of herself as she pulled off her traveling clothes. They'd known each other far too long and had been on far too many long missions in the forest for modesty to be an issue between them. And besides, her mind was far too distracted by certain sweet, recent memories, “...Is that really the cleverest thing you could think up on the spot? 'I smell like a beard'?” 

“Actually, I've been working on it since ah, an hour ago,” Legolas sat up, eying her closely as she reached for something more feminine from her rucksack, “...In all honesty, though, and without jest. How do you manage being in their presence for so long? I mean, for certain, and his brother isn't so bad,” The prince allowed, shrugging, “But by my blades, we could only find enough in common for so long...”

“Perhaps you were too caught up in your own concerns to spare a curiosity for his,” She heard herself snip, annoyed, and saw as her friends' eyes went wide in surprise, his brows lofting. Tauriel groaned, rubbing a hand over her face. “...They're not so very different than us, if you bothered to try and see, Legolas,” She told him, softly, “They're loyal and they're kind, and as single-minded in their aims as your father ever has been.”

“...All that I could easily believe,” He allowed, slowly, as she slipped on something a bit more appropriate for the evening feast. Every evening meal since the company had arrived tended to gather a crowd and turn into a very lively party. “If I allowed myself. But it is my father whom I must think on, and for all the years he paid homage to their kingdom, they were the ones who tempted their own ruination, and threatened our homes so long ago, by drawing in the dragon,” Legolas tilted his head, “...That you, of all people, can place all that aside...”

“And why should I not?!” She asked, fiercely, having finished lacing up her dress, “Years have passed since he's even been seen, how do we know that Smaug hasn't died of old age upon his golden bed? How do you know that your father, our King, hasn't been eying the Lonely Mountain with that same thought? How do we...” She paused, gritting her teeth, agitated under the heavy stare of her friend, “...How do -you- know, that we haven't been moved like pawns, in a game for the rights to the wealth under the mountain?”

“...You'd say as much of my father? Your king?” Her friend's face went dark, as he rose from his bed and looked on her from a level place, and Tauriel only lofted her chin in reply.

“I would question indeed, his obsession with a company of peasant dwarfs, however nobly they might have been born,” She murmured, honestly, “I'd wonder why he sent me, his trusted Captain, and you, his only son, and also among his finest fighters, to follow them when hosts of orcs threaten the Woodland Realm, as we speak. Can you give me a better reasoning, Legolas?” 

The Prince had no further words for her, only clapping his mouth shut and watching as she turned away, brushed out her long hair, and braided back the locks with a practiced hand. Her defiance had fled, though, and her shoulders shook just slightly. At long last he sighed, shaking his head, looking up at her through his fair-colored brows, “...For all that you might speak true, my friend...that you'd be so defensive of them...you must watch yourself and guard your tongue, out among the Men of this town and certainly among our own company.”

“I am well aware...” She swallowed, reaching to him, brushing his cheek, “But I think I can do no more harm than has already been guessed of us, here.”

.

.

.

“Do I need to smack that idiot grin off of your face?” His brother was chuckling as he said it, though, shaking his head. The two of them were side by side at the long dinner table, and Kili's gaze kept going toward the elf Lady seated by the Master, at the head. It was a good thing that Thorin, seated on the man's other side, was deeply distracted by conversation with a local huntsman of the town, else he might have noticed the truly ridiculous smile Tauriel was receiving from his nephew. Kili was lucky that Fili still only thought him to be Tauriel's strangely besotted personal nuisance. He'd not guessed that his little brother had actually spent the better part of that afternoon being kissed by an elf.

Not yet, anyway. 

Tauriel was much better at schooling her features, talking pleasantly of the wine trade routes with the Master of the town. Her lips did twitch up a bit, though, and her eyes went bright and merry whenever she spotted him staring. So no, then, he hadn't dreamed up that afternoon after all. “Our uncle has told us to become friendly with them, has he not?”

“Friendly, not swooning like a young maid,” Fili did give his head a light smack then. Down the table, that did break Tauriel's serene and elf-ly expression, snorting ungracefully into her wine. Fili blinked, frowning, glancing first to her, and then to Kili, and then back, and suddenly his brother was very interested in his nearly-empty plate. “...Huh.”

“Music, lads!” Bofur called out just then over the general din of the crowded dining hall, plucking up his pipe. Most everyone was finishing their supper, plates being pushed back and bussed away by cheery lasses. The music of the company had quickly become a favorite in Laketown, even the most dubious of its inhabitants turning out or opening a window to hear the Dwarfs' merry tunes. With a whoop, Fili jumped up to grab his fiddle, and to bring Bombur his drum, and Kili huffed out a breath of relief. And then he grinned, pushing back from the table as a familiar, lively tune began to play.

Because dancing was perfectly, appropriately friendly. 

Slipping around the table as boots started stomping and hands began clapping, Kili offered Tauriel a hand and a cheeky grin. She looked properly annoyed, sighing reluctantly, and then beaming wide at him when she was no longer facing the table. She was as tall and beautiful as ever in the greenish blue of Mirkwood, but then, Kili had always carried himself with the confidence of the tallest Men in the room. He swung her into the fray, and she couldn't help letting out that bright, merry laugh of hers that made his heart swell in his chest every time, and folk joined her in it.

Let them think she laughed in mockery of being turned about to the music by a dwarf. Kili at least knew that it was all for him.

.

.

.

.

.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on snooty!Legolas: I'm hoping that whatever Kili/Tauriel is in the films, a one-sided crush, smarmy maybe-bffs, or more, it's meant as something Legolas remembers. That maybe he was entirely Thranduil's son in his disdain for dwarfs, until that one time when his best friend cared for a son of Durin. In film canon anyway, you'll see that he's more forgiving of Gimli than Gimli is of him, despite them sharing the same history. He might not be a huge dwarf fan in Fellowship. But what if he remembered Tauriel. What if he remembered the merry music of dwarfs filling Laketown's streets. He's open to what a dwarf could teach him, in Fellowship, because of what a dwarf once taught a friend.

.

.

For a tender beaming smile   
To my hope has been granted,   
And tomorrow she shall hear   
All my fond heart would say...

.

.

.

.

It took Fili far less time to figure out than it took Legolas. But then, Fili was his brother and Kili knew that he was far less in command of himself and his own face than Tauriel ever had been. As days passed in a blur of getting their strength back, repairing their belongings, gathering supplies, feasting and stealing kisses behind trees, Kili found it harder and harder to hide the spring in his step. It was a good thing their elders couldn't possibly conceive of it being what it really was, and chuckled instead over the luck of the young to get their merry spirits back so quickly along with their health.

Fili, however, -was- young enough and relatively free of prejudices enough to allow for the possibility. He put together his brother's merry mood (not something a lad pining for a lady who didn't love him back usually sported), the elf prince's indulgent sighs, and the amount of time Kili was out of his sight fairly quickly. Fili found, however, that he really did not want to chastise his brother. He knew he should, and no mistake. But for all that he was just as sure of their quests' eventual success, Fili also knew the risks perhaps better. He had to, for all his youth, because he'd also been a protective older brother for almost as long as he remembered. They might very well die on that mountain, and if Kili finally got to enjoy what Fili had gotten plenty of back home before they did, well...

What harm was in it, really? 

Only a lot, if their elders, especially their Uncle, found out. And so Fili kept his thoughts to himself, except for the occasional comment that had Kili double-taking. He was fairly certain his brother knew that he knew, though, because by their last night in Laketown Tauriel was in their room by midnight, and all three of them were passing around a skin of Elvish wine, sitting on the floor, laughing and telling tales. 

“My friend has officially deemed you a 'decent sort', by the by,” The elf maid smiled to him, her head resting on his brother's knee, Kili's hands absently braiding bits of her red hair. She looked a far cry from the fierce, deadly creature who'd saved and then captured them in Mirkwood, and yet Fili could tell that the soldier was still very much in there. It was in her build, her bearing, her sharp and clever gaze. Only now he was seeing the Captain as he'd not yet seen her, as he'd never seen any elf, really. Unguarded, happy...loved. 

Loved by his stupidly, ridiculously grinning idiot of a little brother.

How in all the world was he supposed to chide Kili for this? Fili could not ever bring himself to do so.

And so he just grinned, shrugging, “He's not terrible himself, certainly not with a blade, anyway.” After a long drink, he passed the wine to Kili, “And when he's not going on and on about how the craftsmanship of my weapons are sub-par,” That made Tauriel chuckle, her green eyes bright.

“For all that he's a soldier, he is, regretfully, still a prince,” She sighed, and Fili found himself liking her more and more. And Kili...well. His brother was still staring at her like the sun rose and set in her bonny eyes.

“I think I'll head to the kitchens, see if there's anything left out!” He lied, pushing himself up from the floor and giving Kili a wink. His brother snorted, bending to kiss his lady as Fili opened the door to go.

For a brief moment, the door was open as Dwalin was passing in the hall, heading toward his and Balin's room with a keg of beer over his shoulder. Fili froze as the older Dwarf paused and glanced directly over his shoulder, at the oblivious couple on the floor, mouths firmly pressed to each other. Fili yanked the bedroom door shut, giving the stunned Dwalin a terrified and silent stare.

“...Please, Dwalin, by the love you bear my mother I beg you...don't tell Thorin...”

Dwalin blinked a few times, plucking up his jaw and setting his mouth in an unamused frown. And then, after a long moment, during which he seemed to filter and process what he'd just seen, the warrior snorted, shrugging, even smirking a bit, “What, and get my king angry over somethin' as harmless as a lad doing what lads goin' to war have always done on the eve of a fight? No, I won't get him in trouble, my love for Dis or no,” Fili let out a sigh of relief, though Dwalin did grip his shoulder, looking at him seriously, "Just see to it son, that when this is all over, your little brother forgets her, as she'll no doubt forget him."

“...I can surely do that.” Fili lied once more.

“Good. Come'on lad, Balin, Gloin, Oin and I are havin' a party!”

.

.

.

.

 

Tauriel found that she never tired of mapping out their differences with her hands, her lips. She could feel the way he so often grinned when they kissed, and the feel of his beard under her touch had become something warm, endearing and familiar. For all that he was short of stature, his shoulders were wider even than those of most elf men she'd known, and definitely roped with thicker, less sinewy and more pronounced muscle. Even his finer clothes were rougher than her own, and she found that she loved gripping hard the belts and buckles and leather to draw him close. And oh, how he still kissed her like an exuberant lad, but he'd gotten so very, very good at it.

Kili seemed just as tactile. She'd long known that her hair fascinated him, thick and red and down to her waist. He'd also come to very much like her ears though, or maybe it was the way that touching them instantly disarmed her, made her gasp into his mouth, her nerves going to jelly. Her smooth skin delighted him, as did one spot just under her jawline.

For all that it was breathless and stirring, there had been a perplexing innocence to it all as well, a pureness of discovery, of the new, of seeing each others races for the first time unsullied by prejudice. This night, though, after his brother had left them alone, it took on a more heated, more desperate quality. Tauriel knew why, but that truth did not stop her, or make her take pause to analyze. It was a simple enough thing, after all. That night might've been their last time together.

“Surely though, for all that this quest might mean your doom,” She murmured from his lap, reaching up to brush her fair hand along his jaw, “You must have plenty that you wish to do with your life. You've the potential for so many years ahead of you...” Tauriel sighed, smiling as he bent to kiss her brow, “What would you do with them?”

“What any lad wants for himself and his life, I expect,” He smiled, shrugging a little, “I'd want to be remembered for great deeds, for acting honorably...I'd want a home, a wife, children,” Here he swallowed, brushing his hand over her hair. Would that even be possible between them? Who knew, though she imagined it was their youth, not a lack of depth to their bond, that kept them from addressing it, “I'd dearly love to see the sea,” He admitted then, grinning once more, “...And I'd see my mother smile again.” He paused, and Tauriel looked up as his expression changed, from soft and merry, to thoughtful and serious.

 

“...You asked me, when first we came here, why I was doing this, why I'd come along,” Kili bit his lip, “While my loyalty to Thorin is the chief reason? A close second is my mother. She was merry and she was kind when I was a lad, but...oh Tauriel,” He sighed, touching her face, “The stories of her as a maid, as a young bride! Her heart was full to bursting then, to hear folk talk, and I've never seen it! Fili had, but he was very young and the memory of her smiling true, and of our father's love for her grows dim...” A pause, a faint smile, and then, “I'd see her done up as a Princess once more. I'd see her in the jewels and finery due her. I'd...I'd see her finally accept that we are grown, and let herself love, let herself have the good things she'd given up in favor of our raisin'. I'd see her marry Dwalin and give us little brothers and sisters. I want to see Thorin restored as King, I want our people to have their proper home back, but...closest to my heart? Is her happiness.” He trailed off, swiping at his eyes with his sleeve. She reached up to him, brushing his cheek dry, “...She gave us everything, Tauriel, and denied herself. I'd give to her back the whole of the world.” 

“You've no nobler cause than that,” She whispered back, her hand sliding up into his hair, “And I've no words to keep you from such an aim,” Her smile was sad, though, and Tauriel knew it, “...But perhaps, thinking doom to be inevitable is folly. Your company might yet win back your home indeed. After all, you slipped my grasp,” She grinned wide, pulling him down for another kiss, as he chuckled merrily into her mouth.

“Only to be snared by you again,” He whispered, lingering near her lips, “...Thorin tells me that there was a whole store of gems and finery set aside for the princess, and eventually the other ladies who'd marry or be born into our line. I mean to bring them back to her keeping...and yet, I think,” Kili grinned, and Tauriel felt the keenest, most painful lurching of her heart, “I think I'd save some of them for you.” 

“That is a lot to promise, my prince,” She told him, softly.

“I may yet have only one more night to make promises to you on, so...” That wonderful, foolhardy grin. Tauriel was taken up with a sudden, urgent passion, and swept to her feet and across the room. Kili frowned, “Where are you...” He trailed off abruptly, jaw going slack as she slid the latch across the bedroom door.

“You've one last night to make promises, and I've one last night to assure you of my love,” The elf smiled, and the dwarf grinned, slowly, “Let's not waste it.”

And so they didn't.

.

.

.

.

.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, while I love me some smut (and love writing it), for a long Tolkien fic it seemed a bit out of place. But that's just me! It'll get it's own separate 'deleted scene' ficlet, I assure you. 
> 
> A lot of people have asked if I'll be sticking to a canon ending. All I'll say, without giving too much away, is...yes, but also no. I'm not in the habit of outright breaking lore. But I do find it to be surprisingly bendy when you look close enough.

.

.

.

.

He woke up to a soft, sweet-smelling warmth stirring in his arms, dawn creeping in around the edges of his quiet room. Tauriel was attempting to rise, and failing miserably, as Kili's arm snaked around her waist and pulled her back, the elf chuckling softly, “It's better I should go while your kin still sleeps,” She whispered, even as she'd stopped resisting him almost immediately, leaning back against his chest with a contented sigh. He pressed his face into her hair, still a bit dazed and astounded that she was truly there with him. 

“Stay, please,” Kili asked in a murmur against the back of her neck, kissing her there, grinning when the brush of his beard on her skin made her shiver. For all that he'd been so nervous mere hours ago, the simple fact that he could have this effect on such a strong, self-assured lass gave him the goofiest sort of confidence. And oh, how he delighted in practicing. “They'll think only that you drank a bit too much wine, and fell asleep on our floor...it wouldn't be the first time, after all.” She snorted, smiling into the pillow.

“Hmm.” Tauriel pretended to think on this seriously, as he put himself wholeheartedly to the task of keeping her there, “Earn for myself a further reputation of being unable to hold my celebratory wine, or leave your arms far, far earlier than I'd like?” Her grin widened, as his lips brushed her ear, “I shall need further convincing...” Her voice trailed off in a gasp, as his hands began moving over her pale skin, turned to the glow of white gems in the blue light of dawn.

Whoever said Kili wasn't a fast learner, or at least was not burdened with much cleverness, could go and fry themselves, he thought. 

The sun was a bit higher when Tauriel did at last stir from his bed, tugging her dress back on over her head while he rummaged for his trousers, his grin not soon leaving his face. He supposed some would say this made him a man, now, though he certainly felt as helpless and boyish around her as ever. Really, all that felt different was how close she felt to him, and not just skin on skin. It was as if she'd sunk into his blood and bones that night, tying herself tighter around his heart. Kili was fairly sure Tauriel felt similar, for all that she'd always been freer around him, there was a new softness there, something deep in her eyes. She'd once spoken to him, a thousand years ago back in his prison cell, of how the elves loved, that casual attachments were not at all in their nature. By rights, he should probably have been frightened of this, of her spirit twining with his. He wasn't, not nearly at all.

Sitting on the edge of the bed after she'd so fluidly, distractingly redressed, Tauriel reached up to make sense of her tousled hair, but Kili stopped her. “Let me,” He murmured, shuffling back onto the bed behind her and reaching toward the nightstand, grabbing the well-oiled wooden comb there (if there is one thing Dwarves are universally meticulous about, it is the state of their combs), “I've always wanted to do this,” He answered her raised brow with a grin, reaching up to loose yesterday's tangled braids that he'd so thoroughly ruined earlier. 

“Determined to keep me here longer,” She whispered, letting her head fall back as he gathered a handful and began combing. Kili shrugged, though he did feel his ears redden a bit. 

“Well, that, and...” He cleared his throat, “It's...something couples traditionally do for each other in the morning, among my folk. Set their braids and beards to rights for the day. Same with fathers and sons, mothers and daughters...” Kili trailed off, and she glanced at him over her shoulder, her expression soft. 

“...Whose did you do?” She asked gently, that something sweet in her voice, soft in her eyes again. Kili smiled wide, his heart hammering in his chest, pausing to kiss her shoulder.

“Mum's,” He told her, “So did Fili. She told us we'd both need the practice one day.” And she'd been right enough, he found, his swift and sure fingers weaving two rows of braids together along her temples and behind her ears, instead of her usual simple plait. Tauriel reached back, running her fingers over the perfectly even, twining braids and then turning, framing his face with her palms and kissing him.

“Thank you,” She whispered, close to his mouth, and Kili dropped his forehead to rest against hers.

“I'm glad we got a proper goodbye,” He told her, softly. The smile that flitted over her lips was unguarded and sweet, and she kissed him again.

“I love you,” She murmured, “Come back.”

He swallowed, hard. For all his surety that their quest would be successful, now that the mountain was before him, now that his heart resided within another...well. It was right to say that he was not quite as reckless in his thinking now. While he'd had every intention of surviving this adventure, at least to die on it would have been noble, heroic even. Kili didn't want to die. He wanted to come back from this journey, come back to be with her, if there was a way. In Erebor or somewhere else, he'd damn sure find a way. He'd show those who'd frown on it just how good she was...

...Perhaps he'd simply found something else to be reckless about.

“I'll come back.” 

.

.

.

The hour their laden boats pushed off toward the mountain was a merry one for the town, many turning out to bid them farewell, to bid the Dwarves not to forget their kindness when they came into their wealth. All the company were in high spirits as well, though Bilbo looked a touch on the glum side. Kili gave him a good-natured nudge, grinning, “Here now, buck up! It's only a few more days on the river, and then our journey's nearly over!”

“Oh it's not more traveling I am weary of, it's the oh, dragon, waiting for us at the end, that has me a touch concerned and more than slightly reluctant.”

Kili's merry mood did falter slightly at that. Yet then his gaze fell once more on the tall, slim figure standing by the Master of the town, growing smaller as their oarsmen ferried them all off. Still he could make out Tauriel's smile, the sun caught on her braided hair, and for all that he loved the softer, unguarded lass he alone got to see, he was glad that his last sight of her was as the Captain in her armor, her expression assured and strong. Kili was sure of himself and their aims again, then, because he simply must be. For her, and for his mother far away in the hazy blue of the West. 

They had to come back.

.

.

.

.

.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Dwarves, you and your (usually) traditional gender roles! Much of my story for Dis/Dwalin will take place after the second-to-last chapter of this tale, for the couple of people who've asked. As I don't want to spoil this story's trajectory for anyone, I'm waiting to continue it :D

.

.

.

.

In the quiet moments, she did sometimes wonder if she'd lost her senses entirely. No, she did not question any longer the deep passion that now curled in her heart, but Tauriel did wonder if she might not have made a few more prudent choices before allowing it to get to this point. She loved him, dearly, however...if he did return, if all his people hoped for happened and Erebor were restored, what would become of their pairing? What could? For all his youth and surety, could Kili really convince Thorin of this? Would her own people, collectively, draw away from her? Would she really leave her beloved forest, or he his family, if they must? 

Or would they be secretly attached, across a River and a Forest? 

And if he did not return at all?

Valar, there were songs in this world written of far less foolhardy and ridiculous lovers, and Tauriel hated them all. That was another matter, the thing that had made her perfectly content to enjoy her youth and save love for some far future, if she ever allowed it at all; The weakness that had long been entwined in her mind with giving ones' heart to another. She'd not even told Kili of such, or even Legolas, of how, for as dearly as she loved her parents, her father's withering grief over her mother's death had become a warning against love in her soul. 

What was love, if it meant that another held that kind power over her? What was love, if it meant one's own soul was no longer in their own safe keeping? And so she had never even allowed the thought to germinate about Legolas or any fellow soldier she knew, and had firmly denied even taking company with the older Elf Lord some years back who'd pursued her, under the easy excuse of being far too young yet to be interested in such pairing.

And then a young dwarf had blind-sided her. Her guard had been down in friendship, and in surety that she could hardly grow to feel more for one of his people. But no, Kili was someone new and unexpected after hundreds of years of sameness, and curiosity had opened her mind, and then her heart. And now for all that her anxious eyes looked Northward to the Mountain, for all that she didn't know what the future held for them and that unsettled her, Tauriel found that she would not have this taken from her, this deep affection. If sorrow was a foe, then she would see to it that it was a foe slain, as she had with so many others. 

Some days after the departure of Thorin's Company, Tauriel caught up with Legolas as he was strolling the docks. Alongside him was a roughly-dressed man of Esgaroth whom she'd noticed before, chiefly for the long bow always slung on his back. He was a grim-faced fellow, but she knew the sharp eye of an expert shot when she saw it. Now, he and Legolas had their eyes cast in the distant direction of Erebor. “This is Bard, my friend,” Legolas told her, and Tauriel noted that the Prince's demeanor seemed somewhat subdued, “Bard, Tauriel.”

“Well met,” The man nodded once, though his eyes did not leave the horizon, “So all your company remains here still?” 

“We sent word to our King of Thorin's leaving,” She replied, “But have been sent no instructions to return yet, no.” Bard smirked.

“I'd counsel you to go ahead and make your return journey.”

“Bard and I were musing on the likelihood that Smaug still yet lives,” Legolas explained to her, in response to her dubious expression, “Apparently in his rangings, he's occasionally drawn close to the mountain, and seen steam, smelt sulfur...” Though her face remained smooth, a sudden, familiar terror snarled in her chest once more. “Thorin will not find his home unguarded.”

“I only eyed the dwarves from afar on their visit, my duties kept my eyes trained to watching the outside, not the in.” Bard murmured, running a hand over his beard and looking to Tauriel, who could relate, usually anyway, “Their music was quite fine, I thought them only miners and toy-makers, displaced princes. Are there soldiers among them, Lady?” Tauriel nodded, her own gaze now fixed the same way they looked.

“Only a few, but those few are seasoned warriors and they are all fighters in a pinch. And they've a skilled archer among them...” She swallowed. Not from personal experience, mind, but she and every archer who'd ever heard the tales knew, that one did not attempt to defeat a dragon in close combat. One hoped and prayed for a stout bow, a clear shot, and a weak spot in his scales. 

“Well then, luck may yet be with them,” Bard's grim voice, which Tauriel was starting to think may be his usual tone, did not sound as if he were terribly optimistic. “If not, well. We'd do well here to be watchful. I take my leave, I must see if I might instruct others.” He left, and Tauriel found her eyes taken up with the town. The large, almost entirely wooden town.

“Pleasant fellow,” Legolas noted, though he was still quite subdued, leaning back against a mooring post with a thoughtful look. “...Tauriel, why -are- we still here?”

“So now you'll ask yourself that question?” She smirked, but meant it kindly, crossing her arms over her traveling clothes and leaning on the mooring post across from him, her eyes now looking Northward again. Tauriel knew that her friend studied her, and after a time she met his gaze again, tilting her head to the side. His expression was serious, thoughtful, but he did give her a small smile, “What are you thinking, friend?” She asked.

“I am merely pondering,” Legolas said, “For all that you look as you ever have, standing like a soldier and a sentinel, there is a warmth in your eyes that has not ever been there,” She looked away again, frowning, but he only shrugged, “Do not be ashamed, I know you could still remove my head with one swift stroke of your knives...” He trailed off, squinting, “I only do not understand it. I know that we've been told much and more of dwarves and that on meeting them, a few were very little like what we'd been told. Still...”

“I can hardly explain it myself, Legolas,” Tauriel replied, quietly, watching fishing boats and trade barges slip past, “I could try...and yet, I think the very best way I can explain the...the love I feel is,” She smirked, “Folk will surprise you in this world, away from the forest. Even our people, with their long lives? Should perhaps accept that they too can be surprised.” Legolas nodded, slowly, brow furrowing in thought. After a long moment in silence, Tauriel pushed herself to standing, nudging her friend. He smiled at her again.

“...How will you explain that very telling expression to my father, though, I wonder?” He asked her, genuinely, as they began to slowly walk back into town side by side. “His perception is great, you know this.”

“I do,” Tauriel sighed, shrugging, smirking a little, “Perhaps I'll tell him it's that dour Man,” She joked, “Or you, that should please him.”

“Ugh, like I'd have you now,” Legolas pretended to scoff, wrinkling his nose, “You've had dwarf stink all over you.” 

She pushed him sideways, into the lake.

.

.

.

.

Despite the sheltered mouth of the front door, nights high on the mountain were chill and cold, and felt all the colder for how their spirits were dropping over every hour they were not able to open the secret door. On this night, Kili had his extra cloak pulled close over his duster, his hood drawn up far over his face, sitting just outside of the firelight with his back against the smooth stone wall. The others spoke in quiet voices all together over their dinner, and Fili was off on watch, leaving Kili alone with his pipe and his many wandering thoughts. 

The high morale and stirring sense of danger that had been on him, on all of the company really, when they'd left Laketown seemed far off now, and he was left to wonder if they'd die of boredom instead. Kili couldn't help but recall the warmth he'd spent his last night in Esgaroth in, and longed for that time to come around again. Tauriel lingered in his mind at all times, and that was a comfort. Missing her somewhat negated that comfort though, especially when there was little else to do. Dwelling on her smile, the way she'd moved so fluidly in armor and wielding her steel, the feel of the pale, freckled skin underneath...

Something needed to happen soon, or Kili would lose his mind.

“There's a face I'd not expect to lose its merry light,” Dwalin's voice drew him from his brooding, looking up from under his hood as the older dwarf sat down next to him, offering him one of their bowls. Bombur had managed to make up a soup with their dried stores, and while it was still very salty from the beef, it was a welcome break from cram.

“Oh I'm just,” Kili swallowed, glancing sideways, “S'hard for any of us to keep merry when we're not gettin' anywhere.” He said honestly enough. Fili had told him all that Dwalin had caught sight of the night before their departure, and warned him against looking all heartsick. Yet, as always, cunning deception was not exactly Kili's strongest point. And Mr. Dwalin, for all his rough brawn, was sharper than many of their companions.

“Aye, true enough, but as I see it, makin' merry with your mates tends to help with that,” Dwalin gave him the eye for a long minute, around his dinner. Kili made sure to fill his own mouth with the salty goods, lest he let something slip, but Dwalin only chuckled, shaking his head. And then, “...I've never told you lads, about the first time I saw your mother after she'd become a maid grown.” Kili blinked, swallowing his big mouthful.

“No, no you've not,” He shook his head, going to his pipe again with cautious relief. If any smile of the warrior's could be called wistful, it would be the one that came over Dwalin's face then, eyes on the campfire.

“Folk go on and on about her beauty, and they're right of course, but oi lad, you'd not believe the feisty thing she was in her youth!” Thinking on certain scoldings when he'd been young, Kili thought he might have an idea, but just grinned, forgetting his troubles for a moment, “I came back from a long campaign and suddenly there was this grown lass in Thorin's house. I thought her bonny, aye, bonniest I'd seen, but I'd not a mind to ever take a wife in those days, too much fighting to do. Then, that very night at feast she'd cause to draw a knife, and slice a finger off a warrior from Dale who'd gotten handsy, before your uncle could so much as rise from his high seat!” Dwalin laughed, and Kili's grin widened at the thought, “Ah, that lad, that's when I fell hard and true.”

“...Why didn't you ever pursue her?” Kili asked, sending a smoke ring to float up over their heads in the cold. Dwalin shook his head.

“I had a mind to, but she let me know firmly that she'd already promised herself to another. A lass her age, I thought? How could she know herself in love, and what sort of dwarf could he be? No, it had to be my hair she took issue with,” Dwalin smirked, “I'd not in a hundred years admit to your father bein' the better dwarf. But...he was,” He gave a decided nod, at that, “He was a good man for sure, if I'd had to lose my chance to anyone.”

Kili nodded, smiling down at his knees, always glad to hear such things of the man he'd never known, of his mother, uncle, and companions in their youths. He looked back at Dwalin then, “How come you never told us straight, how you loved her? You looked after us, more than almost anyone except Thorin did. But it was never really talked of.”

“Well, you're a lad grown now, aye?” The older dwarf squinted at him, and Kili coughed on his pipe-smoke. Dwalin grinned wide, “You get to speak among the men now.” 

“Well, I mean, I'm...of age now, if that is what you...” He coughed again, and Dwalin just laughed.

“...The more I look on ye, the less I see a lad who'll soon forget that pointy-eared lass,” He shook his head, disapprovingly, but his voice was still easy enough, if low now, “Help your uncle win back all he's lost, and maybe after he's got it, -maybe-, he'll be in a good enough mood to look the other way,” Dwalin smirked, “Or you'll find a proper lass among those who'll return, and this conversation will be gladly forgotten, because oi, lad, s'unnatural.” 

“I know,” Kili sighed, but relaxed somewhat against the wall. He left off the bit about how he couldn't care less. Dwalin rose to go, giving his shoulder a fatherly smack as he did. 

“But then, your mother never listened to Thorin, or I, either.”

.

.

.

.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief in-between chapter. For anyone who thinks three movies is pushing it? Holy crap, give the book another reread, because a helluvalot happens in the last few, short chapters. 
> 
> Thorin's falling into Thrain's same doom always breaks my heart every time I read it. For all his goals were noble at the start, (and the film drives it home even moreso), he succumbs to gold-lust and so much bad follows. THORIN WHY. ...Ahem, anyway...onward!

.

.

.

.

.

She'd been patrolling the piles and docks, when the dragon came. When he fell like a hot, storming gale upon the lake, spewing fire and setting the town alight. Tauriel and Legolas took up their bows, chasing Bard through the burning ruins and over the screaming of the fleeing townsfolk. Many a defender of Esgaroth fell to the flames that night, until Tauriel at last beheld the descendant of Girion take aim, a Thrush settling on his shoulder, seeming to whisper the dragon's secrets just before Bard let the arrow fly. Legolas took her arm and they lept into the waters, just before Smaug's great corpse fell hard, demolishing the remainder of the burning town in one deathly fall.

Morning was gray and foggy, and a deep sorrow filled the Captain of Mirkwood's heart. For the folk of Laketown, for how the Master churned up the thought that it was all the fault of the company of Thorin, who'd surely died on The Lonely Mountain in their rousing of the dragon. To be true, much of what followed was a blur for Tauriel. She recalled that Bard, the secret heir of Dale, was called to lead when the Master failed and that, at least, awoke a numb approval in her, as talk sprung up of easing Esgaroth's pain with the now-unguarded hoard. 

The once-grim man called to her in the steaming mists, not gathering her attention until he'd taken her by the shoulders, looking her straight in the face. That was when she awoke from her shock fully, gathering hersel and meeting his gaze, “Go to your people, we need their aid!” Tauriel nodded, looking wildly about, relieved to see Legolas still unharmed. All about the shores of the lake the survivors huddled, and Tauriel mustered herself, made her face stern, called out for two of the remaining horses. 

As they rode with much haste along the banks of the Lake, toward the forest, a strange churning took her chest. It was more than mere disbelief, no...Tauriel knew he was not dead. If he'd been dead, there would have been something different, something devouring and crippling in her soul. No, Kili was not yet dead. She spurred her horse onward.

Both of them were surprised beyond words, to find Thranduil and his whole armed, armored host already marching toward The Lonely Mountain. Legolas and Tauriel looked at each other, the latter grim, the former somewhat stricken that his own father had not told him of his aims. Tauriel saw it all over his face. But her words for her king could wait, for more pressing concerns were looming, “My king, Smaug has been slain,” She told him, when he called her close, “But not before laying waste to Esgaroth, and its people are homeless and without shelter or supplies in the face of the winter.”

For all she'd felt toward Thranduil before that moment, after it, she was once again assured of his truly good heart. For without hesitation, he called for his army to change course, with messengers sent back to his halls for immediate supplies. For all that the wealth of Erebor tempted him, he was a good and just ally, and would not see this town of Men starve. “And of the company of Thorin?” Thranduil asked her, as they made all haste back to Laketown. Tauriel's throat grew tight.

“...We do not know.”

.

.

.

The night that the Raven came, Kili was already deeply troubled.

For sure, his excitement over the suddenly unguarded hoard had been great, though perhaps not as great as that of his elders. He looked long on the shining wealth of Erebor, his birthright, and felt due pride. But then, he and Fili had found among the piled gold the treasures due the Lady of Durin's House, and their heads had cleared somewhat. Over the feminine silver, mithril and gold trinkets they lingered long, talking of how their mother would look all decorated properly in them. There were hair beads and great gems, pendants on chains and clips to be woven into long hair and a lady's beard, most of them wrought in stars, flowers and moons, in green and blue gems.

They bundled them up and privately took them from the chamber themselves, for both of them had seen a disturbing new gleam in Thorin's eyes. Many a time had their uncle described to them the madness for his own hoard that Thrain had fallen to, and now, as it fell over Thorin himself, his nephews were grieved to see it. “Perhaps it will pass,” Kili suggested, earnestly, as they watched their uncle gleefully taking in his treasure. Fili nodded in quick agreement.

“Aye, it's just...just the newly having it back, that has him this way,” Even Fili, who'd always tried to be the more pragmatic of the two of them, wanted to hope in this, hope that Thorin was not lost to them just yet. Just so, both brothers agreed to make sure this portion of the treasure came directly to their mother, gathering it up in a sack and concealing it in Kili's roomy coat, as Thorin went, muttering and searching long for the Arkenstone. 

More than once, though, Kili looked through them himself, looking for very specific things. Things such as would shine best against ruddy hair under the hazy green light of a deep forest. At last he settled on two small golden beads set with green gems, and one pendant of gold and green, a golden dragon wrapped around a swirling sea of emerald. These he tucked into his pockets when Fili was not looking, vowing to himself that they'd hang in Tauriel's hair and around her fair neck, one day.

And then, when the Raven came bearing the news of Laketown's destruction, Kili felt it like a dart in his heart. He hardly heard the harsh terms Thorin sent back with the bird, hardly was aware of Bilbo, Fili and Bombur's protests. He did know, distantly, that his uncle was turning away the pleadings of Men in need, was turning instead to Dain Ironfoot and his armies to guard what he'd rightfully claimed. It was not until Fili gripped his arm, that Kili fully came back to himself.

“Two thirds of the town survived,” Fili whispered, “And it is very likely that she left it long before Smaug wrought his doom. Keep your feet, brother! For Thorin may well need what counsel we can give, what counsel he'd even listen to!” 

Kili nodded, mustering himself, but he'd not Tauriel's intuition, such as came with much of her kin. He could only hope, clutch the jewels in his pocket, and strive to reach an uncle who'd been overcome by a sickness that had long haunted their family.

.

.

.

.

.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two pine so much, I may call their ship Vermont. *Dunk, swish*

.

.

.

Howling ghosts they reappear  
In mountains that are stacked with fear  
But you're a king and I'm a lionheart.  
A lionheart...

.

.

.

.

Thranduil had sent her along with the first wave of elves and men, as scouts to make out the state of the Front Gate. While a niggling doubt remained in her mind about her King's ultimate aims, Tauriel trusted in his support of Bard, and Bard's claim by birthright to a portion of the hoard, which would greatly aid in the sickness and suffering among the people of Laketown. The once-grim-seeming Man had taken on a different light in many minds after proclaiming his lineage, and Tauriel trusted in his concern for his people. He was noble, he was serious, and he'd their well-being close at heart.

If she were to be honest, however, the only reason she went ahead of the rest was to see with her own eyes what had become of Thorin's company. In her heart she was convinced that Kili at least yet lived, and as she and her kin slipped across the lake toward the looming ghost of a mountain, Tauriel became more sure. She did not voice her thoughts to her fellow scouts, though, not until they'd crossed the desolate, gray landscape and the charred ruins of Dale, to behold the new-hewn stone blocking the front gates of Erebor. 

Her heart, that had at first the inclination to lift, took on a wary grimness as she heard Thorin calling roughly to the first of the men and her kin to reach the pool there. This was a new sort of foe, and only bad things could come of what she heard in the Dwarf King's voice. Her kin went away back to build their camps and await the coming parties of Thranduil and Bard, but Tauriel stayed standing for a time, sharp eyes on the arrow slots between the high stones. She could see no one, but knew she'd been seen, standing erect and armored and very much alive for a while longer, before turning to go and await the kings' coming as well. 

.

.

Tauriel could not know (though she dearly hoped), that Kili had seen her, was trying to hide his gasping smile of relief, his hands pressed against the other side of the stone while most around him muttered. Pressing his lips together hard, he tried to reason this all out as quickly as he could. A greater company would be sure to follow, to try and further press the terms the raven had brought them. And they'd make no progress with Thorin, most of the elder dwarves even joining in his thinking, in spite of them all being hungry and weary. Add to that Dain being on his way...

Kili could only count on having tonight. 

When the darkness fell full, the sweet singing and delicious cooking smells rose to them from the camp in Dale, and Kili was not alone in wishing they were down there enjoying the feast with the men of Esgaroth once more, with their unlikely friend and former jailer. Thorin only turned away in anger, eyes toward the dim glow of his hoard. As the elders among them took up their instruments and made music to cheer their King, Kili took watch atop the wall with his brother, the music turning warlike behind and below them, much to both of their chagrin.

“We've not been able to talk sense to him, and now battle looms closer,” Fili murmured low, wrapping his cloak close about himself, “The Elvenking I understand his grudge with, but those who sheltered us when we were in need?”

“Aye,” Kili swallowed, “...I need an hour or two.” Fili smirked.

“I figured as such,” His brother gave him a nudge, “I'll say you're being useless and dozing up here if anyone asks, if you bring me back some of that damned good elven bread.

“I can try!”

“And be careful, you idiot.”

“Always, big brother,” Kili gave him a wink, drawing a length of rope from his pack, handing one end to Fili and tossing the other over the other side of their barricade.

.

.

Tauriel lingered on the margins out of long-standing habit. Of course, being a soldier and guard, it shouldn't have surprised anyone that she felt most natural there, watchful and mindful of all that went on outside of the usual person's periphery, as others made merry. The periphery was a sentinel's domain, and Tauriel took that as her creed, much as merry kin might name her cold for being so respected, and yet so unsocial-able. It was never without purpose. 

For that night in Dale, her purpose was perhaps more selfish, and she'd have admitted as much to herself. It wasn't so strange, to think the he might find a way to her side. But if it could happen on any night, it would be this one, with an army on its way and the night soon to become more watchful and dangerous. Tauriel was just outside the ring of fires and music, leaning back against a charred pillar when she felt a warm hand slip into her own, her ears having already alerted her to his distinct footfall. With a wistful smile, she squeezed his hand back, casting her eyes about for anyone who might notice, and then slipping silently away into the shadows behind them.

Dale's ruins offered plenty of shadow and privacy, and the music drove away any sorrow or ghosts that might be lingering. On dropping to one knee Tauriel was a few inches shorter than Kili, and that made him grin, just before her arms were around his shoulders, his hands in her hair, drawing her firmly into a long, lingering kiss. She kissed him back with a fervor, hands sliding over his stained and rough traveling clothes with relish.

“I feared you dead,” He gasped, brushing her ears with fond fingers. She turned her head, kissing his palms.

“I almost feared the same,” She grinned, “I'd have felt you go, though, I think.”

“Wish I could do that,” Kili murmured, holding her close to his chest, “...It's not good, is it?” He gulped, and Tauriel shook her head, sighing.

“The Laketown is utterly destroyed,” She told him, rising, and then sitting on a fallen pillar. They'd found themselves in the ruins of what must have been an inn once, the ceiling and upper stories long crumbled. Kili stood between her knees, watching her face closely, earnestly, as if drinking it in, “The people homeless, but for their fields and flocks on the shores. My kin are aiding them, and Bard is a good Man, but...” She sighed, “I still question many of Thranduil's motives.”

“And Thorin is not to be reasoned with,” Kili told her, his tone grieved, “He's...he's taken with what he's gotten back, and...” There was a waver in his voice, and Tauriel did not need to know more, brushing a hand over his face. She knew that stricken look. It was the look of a grown child seeing a man they'd always looked up to, fall into a weakness of spirit. She knew that look very well, for she'd had it for many years after her father and mother's passing. “This won't be resolved clean...”

“No...” Tauriel murmured, leaning forward, resting her forehead on his, “No it won't...you should come away,” She heard herself say, swallowing hard, “We should leave, before this happens. Go off to somewhere far away...”

“I can't,” Kili told her, softly, yet steadily, framing her face with his hands, looking all the young prince when he met her eyes, “You know that I can't. He's gone a bad way, but...he's my uncle and my King and I must see if I can say wisdom to him. I...we, Fili and I, we could never leave him.” He smiled a little, sadly, and it broke her heart, “Mum'd never forgive us.”

“I thought you'd say as much,” The elf smirked back, kissing his nose. “...I have questioned, of late, what has become of my loyalty,” She admitted, her voice dropping to a whisper, “I am loyal to my kin. And I do indeed think that a small portion of that hoard is owed Dale, owed Esgaroth. But,” Tauriel ground her teeth, shut her eyes tight, the war inside of her swiftly won, “...I'll not heed any order to raise arms against you,” She vowed, and he kissed her again, rough and sweet.

“...I've something for you,” He whispered, when they'd finally pulled apart. She lofted a brow, and he grinned in the moonlight, rummaging in his pockets. Tauriel's heart lurched when he drew out the treasures of the Daughters of Durin, for with all that she'd loved him she'd thought this particular promise to be just a young lad's going on. It wasn't, and Tauriel was swiftly learning that for all Kili was foolhardy, when he made a promise, he kept it. “The rest is under my bedroll,” He told her, placing the braid-beads and pendant into her hands, “...I ah, I spent lots of time picking them out...”

“They're beautiful,” She told him, her throat tight, thumbs brushing over the magnificently-wrought gold. The dragon of the pendant seemed to be trying to devour the giant, oddly-milky emerald, and the beads were little whelplings with tiny emeralds for eyes. The weight of his promise hit her afresh, and after sliding the pendant around her neck, tucking it under her tunic, she smiled, turning, “Braid them in?” She asked, offering him the beads. He was all too happy to do so.

“They look almost as fine as those flowers,” Kili murmured when he was done, pressing a kiss into her long red hair. Tauriel shut her eyes, basking in the moment, knowing it could only last for so long.

“I've not ever been one for ornaments,” She admitted, turning back, taking him into her arms again, loathe to let him go, “Those flowers have sentimental value. But these...well,” She smirked, “I could quite approve of such practical Dwarvish ornamentation.” 

“It suits you,” He told her, softly, glancing at the moon. “...I've only an hour or so before someone relieves my brother and I on watch...”

“Then let us forget our troubles, and the cold, for a while,” She whispered, kissing him yet again, smirking a little after, “...Fate seems to be seeing fit to continue giving us final nights together, my prince.”

“Let's hope, then, that it decides to keep it up,” Kili's voice was merry, yet threaded with all the longing Tauriel herself felt. Arms clutched close, lips slanted against each other, and she was quite sure that she could ignore the world for as long as they were given, “...I've thought on something, up here in the cold...”

“Aye?”

“Aye...” He grinned, playing with one of her earlobes, “You asked me once what I wanted of my life, bein' so young and all. You're young for your people too, though,” He said, and she nodded, chuckling, “What would you have of your long life, Captain?”

“Mmm, many of the same things you would, actually,” She told him, “A family, one day, though...though I'd not wanted such a thing for some time,” Her voice wavered, and he kissed her again, “...I'd see the sea. Valar I'd, I'd see all that this world has to offer!” Her exuberance was sudden and strong, making him grin wider, “Leaving the forest has stirred it in me! I want to see the South, to see the great sand wyrms there, and to break bread with the peoples of different colors. I want to see Gondor, Rivendell, Rohan, your Blue Mountains...” She smiled, kissing him again.

“Then, when this is all over,” He murmured, “Let us steal away and do just that!” It was a mad thing, but Tauriel was happy to trust in it happening. It was far more likely than the two of them finding favor with either of their people, anyway. And for a short time, between lips and far-off plans, they did their best to keep the cold, the harsh realities of the world, and the threat of conflict at bay.

.

.

.

.

.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, the sads start coming. I streamlined the chain of events just slightly, for story purposes and as I imagine they'll do so in the films. Thorin, you break my heart to write.
> 
> Also, in case you missed it and need smut after your feels, I wrote and posted that extra scene.

.

.

.

.

Keep the earth below my feet  
For all my sweat, my blood runs weak  
Let me learn from where I have been  
Oh keep my eyes to serve, my hands to learn...

.

.

.

 

The nights had fallen grim over Erebor, as outside a sizable host had gathered in Dale's ruins, and inside a stubborn, head-strong and gold-sick Dwarf King would not yield, even as his company slowly starved. Beside her at Thranduil's cookfires, Tauriel watched as Legolas tried to buff the gouge Thorin had shot into his shield when last the terms were traded. She knew it had been Thorin. Fili or Kili, and it would have hit the crest dead-center. Not that they would have followed such an order, she was quite sure.

“How am I to reason with this Dwarf King?” Bard was grumbling into the fire, seated nearby. Tauriel beheld that, while he strode tall and assuredly among his people, now in the company of just they two, he sat hunched, as if a great weight was upon his shoulders, bending him low. “I'd not take one coin more from his cursed hoard than that which would feed and house Esgaroth. By all that I have, I'd be gladder than ever to see Erebor great again, cause for Dale to be rebuilt...”

“Were you dealing with the Thorin Oakenshield who left Laketown weeks ago, we'd not still be here.” Tauriel murmured, smirking, though there was little mirth behind it, “He'd have insulted our king no less, but they'd have sent you off with aid, and half of them would have taken supper with us last night,” She shook her head, looking away, “Now he is sick with his treasure, and will see no reason, from any side.”

“You seem very assured of this sickness,” Bard noted, a genuine curiosity in his voice. She nodded.

“His nephew spoke of how it came over Thrain, near the end...” 

“Tauriel,” From the grand tent behind her, she rose swiftly as Thranduil called to her, “I would speak with you privately, Captain.” 

“At once,” She dipped her head, glancing to Legolas, who only shrugged, frowning over his shield again.

“As you've mused, we cannot remain in this stalemate,” Her king told her, as they slipped into his finely furnished tent. Thranduil braced his hands on a high oaken chair, which Tauriel briefly wondered at the transportation of. A hint of some figure seemed seated there, but she could not be sure from her vantage point, and if indeed there was someone, Thranduil did not seem troubled by speaking plainly with them near, “There are many avenues to breaking it, of course. We do outnumber them vastly, at present.”

“We do,” Tauriel replied, cautiously. 

“I have been hoping that perhaps even forcibly taking what is due Dale, without bloodshed, would be possible” He went on, gently, “Yet I do not think now that Thorin will surrender, even before a whole army, even with his own blood kin at risk. We cannot continue this, though, and so...”

“I'll not raise arms against them,” Tauriel cut him off, most impulsively, as the realization that he was going to send her, his Captain, to arrest them all dawned. Thranduil turned, his frown faint, yet heavy, and it occurred to her that she'd just spoken out of turn, had just refused her ruler's command before it had even left his lips.

The Elvenking regarded her sharply for a time, then, and under his gaze she found herself putting all effort toward remaining stoic. But Thranduil's intuition and clever sight were products of a great age, and Tauriel could only hide so much from him. Also, with a start, Tauriel recalled that even if her face were so much marble, other glaring hints at the content of her heart were visible. He had no trouble finding them, reaching to her hair and lightly touching one of the gems there with a whisper of his pale fingers. “...A curious, and unnatural thing...” His voice held no anger, nor disgust, though, only careful, almost pained confusion. 

“All the same,” A deep voice from the oaken chair finally spoke, a gray cloaked figure rising. He was a tall old Man, with a long white beard and eyes that went to Tauriel's with kindness, even as his tone to Thranduil was rough, “Your Captain is quite right to refuse your command, King.” Thranduil sighed, covering his brow with his palm, and to see him respond so to an elderly Man...Tauriel began to piece together, whom this may be. “There are other options yet open to us, of this I am sure! They've simply not yet revealed themselves...”

“My apologies, my King,” One of Thranduil's guards chose that moment to speak, just outside of the tent flap, “But it would seem that their halfling has come to us...”

.

.

.

.

They'd made no progress with Thorin. If anything, his wroth and covetous glare had grown worse, so that even the elder Dwarves, who'd at first taken his side in this standoff, were looking on him with grim and nervous eyes, though all were stubbornly loyal to the end. Even so, Kili and Fili were among the most anxious, along with Bofur and Bombur, and poor Ori just looked terribly lost and confused all the time. And they were all powerfully hungry, the cram running low behind the barricade.

Kili was still at a loss as to what to do, though, of what to say. He'd bring up their food stores time and again, but Thorin would only mutter that Dain would bring them plenty of supplies. “And then, perhaps, in the face of such an army,” Fili pressed, “Even the elves might treat with you more to your liking...”

“The Elves!” Thorin snorted, pointing to the two of them, “It was a mistake to let you boys spend as much time in their company as you did.” Kili felt his face burn, but it was not in embarrassment. 

“And the company of the Men who took us in?” He heard himself say, “Who fed and clothed us when we were beggars at their door, should we not have sat in friendship with them, as well?” But Thorin only turned away, muttering of their being young and foolhardy. He would hear no more from anyone after that, and returned to the sorting of his treasure, and to his constant search for the Arkenstone.

At last, on the day that Gandalf appeared outside with Bard and The Elvenking, when he held aloft that very precious stone, the young Dwarves found that they'd had their fill. Thorin viciously denied the terms yet again, and nearly throttled poor Bilbo in doing so, tossing him out to the old wizard with curses to follow. As the sounds of Dain's approach over the hills filled the air, more than one of them looked on Thorin with wary eyes, and Kili could bear it no more, not after the abuse of their small friend.

“You would nearly kill a man who's saved our lives over and over?!” He cried, his nerves high and his voice shaking, with both anger and with fear of the man he'd loved as a father his whole life. Fili was behind him, though, as the rest of the company looked on nervously, “Who's sworn to you loyalty and who approached a dragon, alone, for you?!”

“He betrays us all to them!” Thorin shouted back, that wild sickness in his eyes again. Kili shook, but stood his ground, “He betrayed all that, as a thief in the night!”

“And you would now kill more of our kin over this?” Fili's voice rose behind his brother. In his periphery, Kili could see Bofur and Dori shifting where they stood, eying the pair of them with cautious approval, “Over a small portion of the hoard that would help our hosts, and over a stone they've promised to give back...” 

“This, this is a matter of far more than gold, boys,” Their uncle hissed, though it was very clear by his mad gaze that such was all it was, “This is our honor at stake, our home...” 'Our hoard,' hung silent in his wrath.

“This is not honor,” Kili spoke up again, swallowing hard, “It is not honorable to let suffering people starve in the cold, as we starve in a gold-filled hall. It is not honorable, to let our kin who'd come to our aid on a word, die because of your stubbornness!”

“You speak of what you don't know, boy!” He bellowed, but Kili's blood only pounded harder in his veins, his frustration, his inadequacy at stopping his uncle before he came to this point, all curling in his chest. He didn't want to die. He didn't want his friends to die, his kin, his brother. He didn't want the elves to die, the merry men who'd fed and clothed and feasted with them to die. 

He didn't want the pretty lass outside, with his gold braided into her hair, to die.

“I know what honor is, you taught me that!” He shouted, even louder, stepping right up to Thorin's face, “This is not it, this is not the way I wanted to come home! This is not the way my mother wants you to win her a kingdom! Right now, you shame her!” 

Thorin raised the back of his hand, the metal there catching the light through the arrow slots. Kili braced himself but he did not move, staring Thorin steadily in the eye, feeling his heart break all over again at the madness he saw there.

But the blow never fell. A rough, tattooed hand shot out, catching Thorin's wrist in an iron grip, and Dwalin stared hard at his King. “...That's Dis' boy you're raisin' a hand to, friend,” The warrior said, slowly, “If you'd spill your sister's blood, then all the lad says is true.”

It was that moment when the harsh, unsteady thrum of Orcish drums reached their ears, the earth trembling below their feet, as the air was no longer filled with Dain's horns, but with the sharp cries of evil voices, and the howling of wargs. 

Thorin came back to himself, his gaze clearing, looking on Dwalin in horror, and then at his nephews, the wary company around them. A great shame was on him, covering his face with his hand, before grabbing Kili and clutching him close for a long moment.

“That it came to this...” He said, roughly, pressing his forehead to his nephew's brow once. And then the King drew himself up, shouting to the company, “Take up arms!” 

.

.

.

.

.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine the film will continue to use Azog as the main big bad guy, and not his son, as in the book. But really, pick your poison. I'm quite convinced I am terrible at writing battle scenes, but ah well, I'll only get better by writing more! This was never going to be a good chapter either way >.>
> 
> -David Tennant voice- I'm sorry, I am so, so sorry... there is another chapter after this, don't leave me in grief and bitterness just yet.

.

.

.

Ah, back through the glen I rode again and my heart with grief was sore  
For I parted then with valiant men whom I never shall see more...

.

.

.

.

.

Her loyalties had already been a churning tumult when the armies of Dain Ironfoot entered the field. For if a true battle broke out now, Tauriel could never leave her kin, never leave her regiment leaderless. Nor could she raise a blade against her lover, the very thought seemed unfathomable. All that was left to her was a desperate, wry bit of humor with which to face the day. She turned to Legolas, swallowing hard, “You are aware, of how much I've always hated and mocked those ridiculous, pathetic rhymes of lovers, torn apart by circumstance?”

“As I recall, you once struck a man with the blunt of your knife for reciting the Lay of Luthien at Midsummer. So yes, I am aware.” Legolas smirked, checking his bowstring, as they stood looking down on the parlay from a high place. 

“I think that I hate the songs even more in this moment.” 

What levity there was left to be had all fled, though, when the sky was darkened with the beating of many wings. When the earth below shook under the thunder, no longer of Dwarven feet in clever mail, but of Orcs in their rough iron, a vast army having traveled with unholy speed under the cover of night, now breaking over the mountains. 

There was nearly no hesitation among any of the peoples assembled, when the wizard cried out for them to stand together. Enmity fled in the face of this terrible, unexpected and shared foe, and ranks formed with haste.

“To my lead!” Tauriel shouted in her people's tongue, her soldiers coming to her swiftly, forming lines and drawing bows, sending a hail of arrows to fall into the valley below. Wave upon wave of orcs fell, Tauriel eventually leaving the archers to Legolas' command as she swept her own people down into the valley, spears and blades drawn, war cries shouted high and loud. They met with Dain's vanguard in the valley, and together the two armies shattered the Orc and warg lines with axe, blade and hammer. 

Bard had led his Men along the Eastern spur of the hills, cutting the goblins off from one side. It seemed that their foes would be quickly swept off, the black blood thick and dark on the ground, on the rocks and the ruins of Dale. But even as Tauriel took pause to catch her breath, her armor stained and gore spattered upon her brow, upon her fine blades, a second, larger and more terrible force came up from behind The Lonely Mountain, with wicked, leathery-winged creatures picking at Dwarves and Men from above.

In that moment, the dry-hewn wall that had blocked the gates of Erebor fell and the company of Thorin Oakenshield poured forth. Thorin looked as a Dwarf King of old, armored in mirthril and plate, looking fierce and clear of mind, shouting for the Men, Elves and his Kinsman to follow him. Something in the countenance of the Dwarves struck fear in the Orcs and Goblins, though they were but thirteen more soldiers in a sea of evil. Their joining the fray seemed to bolster new hope and energy in the joined armies, pushing back against the tides with fresh vigor.

In one brief moment, in the ongoing bustle and violence of battle, two figures came toward each other at the same time, with great speed. Tauriel dropped to her knees just before Kili took her face in his hands, kissing her then in the sight of many. “I knew you'd still be standing!” He cried, grinning. 

“Let us keep it that way!”

They fought back to back for a time, but as the hours wore on, they were separated and though the rallying of Thorin had done much to pierce the tide, they were all slowly overcome. Many of her fair kin were now laid dead on the ground, among the piles of orcs, wargs and goblins, so too of the Men of Esgaroth and the Dwarves of The Iron Hill. They were hemmed on all sides at last, and through the gloom, across the ring they'd been surrounded within, Tauriel beheld Thorin set upon by a monstrous pale Orc astride a giant warg, bearing a twisted parody of an honor guard on either side.

With a sudden terror, she saw two figures leap in front of their uncle, piercing both flanking Orcs with swords and knives. They slaughtered the guards and their mounts, but not before one had taken Kili in the chest with its cruelly barbed axe. Fili dove for him, into the path of the Pale Orc, who cut him down as he held his younger brother, his cruel eyes on Thorin all the while.

She did not hear her own cries. She heard nothing. She saw only twisted, snarling bodies and she hacked her way through them all, through the woeful tide, all poise and grace forgotten in her grieved rage. And she was not alone.

Though he was rent by many wounds before the deed was done, Thorin fell on the Pale Orc with a wrath not seen even at the worst of his gold lust, at the fall of his grandfather, at the fall of Erebor. He cursed and shouted in his people's tongue, harsh and cruel words, blood and tears mixing on his face as his weapons found flesh. When at last he hacked the head from the orc's shoulders, he too fell to his knees, nearly spent, nearly done for. The orcs drew back in fear, then, just as above, The Great Eagles had entered the fight...

.

.

.

She found them both in the endless field of flesh, at last, when the skies were clearing. 

Breath still moved in their lungs, the older bent over the younger in anguish. Tauriel took Kili in her arms, his eyes open long enough to look upon her. He smiled once, “You're still standin'...” He whispered, touching her face, before the pain of his wounds had him gasping, curling up, and then slipping into a merciful unconsciousness. She called out for help, her voice hoarse from battle, the smoke and war cries having torn her throat raw. Others came with stretchers, and the Dwarves were carried to the same tent where Thorin lie, the King slowly dying of his wounds.

“I can do little for him,” Gandalf said gently to Tauriel, to Fili and Thorin, as he touched Kili's raggedly rising and falling chest, his shut eyes. 

She fell to her knees at his bedside, as she had many times by then. To spare his pride, some might think, but much more so that she could look level into his eyes as they kissed, and see the warmth and brightness there. Now she knelt to rest her head upon his chest, his battered mail and armor pulled away. She counted his uneven, faint heartbeats as they slowed under her ear, and willed them to keep up their tattoo, to keep sounding, to grow stronger, for his hands to sneak into her long, dirty hair. But they did not.

Dimly, she was aware of the wizard speaking to Thorin, of the dying King's wondering murmur of “If I'd but known...”

He moved to Fili, close to Kili's opposite side, the older brother still struggling with the pain of his fatal wounds, clutching his little brother's limp hand. “Gandalf!” He rasped, harshly, an almost desperate edge to his voice as the wizard reached to tend his pains, “I must...must know,” Fili swallowed, stopping Gandalf's hand before he could ease him into the same friendly slumber, “It is said that we all go to dwell in the halls of our fathers, but...do we truly? Will we both?” The young dwarf clutched at the wizard's sleeve with bloody fingers, “...I cannot let him go alone. We've never been apart and I...I'm supposed to look after him!”

There was a pause, the old man's breathing gone ragged. Tauriel shut her eyes, still counting those precious heartbeats under the bloody leather, her hands clutching his belts and leathers. They were so far apart, now...

“All who are slain in this life, shall stand before the judgment seat of Mandos, that we know for certain...” Gandalf spoke at last, his voice rough with emotion, kind, as he touched Fili's brow gently, “Beyond that seat, what awaits the mortal races? Even the wisest cannot say. I can tell you, though, Fili...” The old man smiled, and that was nearly enough for the dying prince, “That if all the sons of Durin will indeed meet at his table, you and your brother will find places waiting, of high honor. And they will be beside each other.”

That eased the Prince, and he at last allowed Gandalf to grant him sleep, his hand still linked to Kili's. Thorin spoke, but Tauriel did not hear his words, for in that moment the stuttering heart below her cheek stopped, and beat no more. A pain like none she'd ever before felt took her, piercing her chest, and she shook with silent weeping.

It was long before she would move, and it took the sure shoulder of her childhood friend to bear her away.

.

.

.

.

.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all <3

.

.

.

.

Listen to the wind where the sky meets the land  
I'm not really gone I've been here all along  
High up in the trees in the sound of the leaves  
Listen to the wind there's no end to my... 

.

.

.

.

Grief was a foe. How many times had she told herself this in the past? Grief was a foe. Perhaps one that visited all peoples, perhaps one that was even necessary in this life, but it was a foe no less, and a foe to be fought, a foe that would leave scars. Tauriel welcomed grief, and even let it take her, for a time, because it must. She laid on her bedroll and shut out the world for days, before remembering all that she'd told herself, all she'd scoffed at such things in the past. She now understood. And she wept long.

He was gone. Never again would she hear that merry laugh, see that boyish smile in the waking world, feel his touch on her skin. For all she'd come to believe in every one of his mad hopes for their future, it was a future that surely would not happen now. 

“He died valiantly,” Legolas told her, when finally she stirred from her dark dreams, “None could ask for better.” Tauriel nodded, silent. That was true, and she took it into her soul, owning it as her truth. It would be her first swing at the foe.

 

Long did the people mourn, and not only the Dwarves for their kin and King, but all the Men and Elves who yet lingered by the field. Thranduil himself laid Thorin's sword Orcrist and the Arkenstone to rest with him, on the tomb built in reclaimed Erebor. His nephews would not rest beside him, though. Before his death, Thorin had named Dain his successor in Erebor, and Dwalin as Lord of his hall in the Blue Mountains. He'd charged Dwalin and, curiously (though not to all), an elf, with returning the bodies of his sister's sons to her. 

“I shall not return,” Tauriel told her friend, when at last the party of Dwarves returning West were ready to take their leave. Legolas looked on her long, and sadly. She knew that he saw much the same soldier as he'd always seen, in polished armor and flowing green. Yet the merry light he knew so well had gone from her eyes, and it matched the echoing, empty place in her chest. Legolas at last dipped his head in acknowledgment, reaching for her hands with both of his.

“Whoever shall take your place, as Captain?”

“Oh, I do believe you know whom,” She gave him a promise of a smile at that. The Prince nodded, smirking.

“We shall see if my father agrees... will you linger long in those mountains, I wonder?” He asked further, his own sorrow at her departing written all over his face, “Or will you press on to the sea, to be with your own father?”

“I do not know,” She answered, honestly. “But I am anxious to find out...”

“I'll miss you,” He kissed both of her hands, before pulling her into a tight embrace. Tauriel clutched him close, allowing herself a few tears, then. 

“We will see each other again, I promise you...”

And they would, but it would not be for many years yet.

.

.

.

First, Tauriel had her errand in the West. Dwalin was surprisingly kind to her on the road, if not exactly warm. The continued mistrust from Dwarves hardly troubled her, though. She was much on her own on the journey, and it was somewhat welcomed. For sure, even in her sorrow the passing lands transfixed her, lands outside of her vast forest she'd never before seen. In the evenings she would often catch herself murmuring in amazement to the great stone cairn they bore with them, describing the road to him. “Of course, you've seen much of this road already,” She whispered into the winter air, “You were going to show it to me, one day...” And again she would fall silent.

Word had reached Dis long before their arrival, and it was a strong, stoic Lady whom Tauriel beheld at the end of their journey. Rumor had not lied, she was very beautiful, and the look of her brother was in her face. When Dwalin knelt before her, though, and presented her with her sons' weapons, her strong demeanor cracked, and she clutched close to him, allowing herself to weep into his furs and armor. 

It was not until Fili and Kili were laid to rest, and, Tauriel was sure, Dis had been in many conversations with Dwalin, that the Dwarf lady finally looked on Tauriel, approached her before her youngest's tomb. Dis reached up, and the elf bowed her head, so that the lady might touch the gems there, and at her neck. 

“...Dwalin has brought me the treasures my sons meant to present me with themselves,” Dis said, at length, a strength in her face that only one who'd already lost much could muster, “He said that some rested in your keepin', but I'd almost not believed 'im,” She actually smiled then, faintly, “I'm...glad there was someone.” Her voice wavered, but she mustered it, “You'll always be welcome at my door.” 

There was a curling of happiness in her chest, knowing it hadn't all been impossible, or hopeless, the idea of two of them. Another strike to pierce the foe.

 

Tauriel did linger long in the Blue Mountains. She spent some years ranging there, a huntress when poorer folk were in need of food, protecting their less defended villages in the valleys. She saw springtime turn the land lush and rich, and witnessed many Dwarves either leaving for their newly rebuilt Erebor, or coming back to a home they'd long known. Tauriel beheld the mantle of sadness slowly lift from Kili's mother, and though she knew that Dis' shorter life somewhat demanded this of her, it was inspiration no less. She lingered until Dwalin's long question to Dis was finally answered, and the two were wed at Midsummer. 

.

.

.

Then she turned back Eastward, for a time. Tauriel ranged further through the lands of Men, slowly passing through Rohan, where she marveled long at the seemingly endless grasslands, and into Gondor, where she beheld brave Men holding a creeping darkness at bay, and even aided them for a time. She dwelt long in Dol Amroth among her distant, mortal kin, taking great delight in the sea. “Look on it,” Tauriel said into the salty wind, still feeling at times as if he were right over her shoulder, waiting with a ready grin, a kiss. Only now, the fancy did not fill her with such sorrow. Only a dull, aching longing as she smiled. “It's all you'd thought it would be...”

After a while, she did take a boat, but found no call to go further than along the coast, back North to the Blue Mountains. As promised she was welcomed warmly into Dwalin's hall, and came prepared for the young children who now greeted her. Clever toys such as Dwarf children liked she'd brought them, Dis looking on in approval as the elf told them tales of the bravery of brothers they'd never known. She saw Kili in their smiles, and sometimes allowed herself to imagine that they were the children he'd so wanted one day.

Their eldest was a merry little lass with red hair, courtesy of Dwalin's side, and oh, the morning hours Tauriel spent on her visit braiding it, now and then a bit of warm salt water falling down her freckled cheek and dropping into Lis' curly locks. The small girl touched the damp spots, looking up at the elf curiously with a frown so much like Kili's it almost stole her breath.

“Why are you crying, Miss Tauriel?” She asked in utmost concern, and the elf could only smile, tugging her close.

“...I was just thinking, Lis, of how much your big brother would have liked to see your hair...” 

“Oh,” This seemed enough explanation for the wee girl. Then, “Mum says he was a fine archer. I'm learning.” 

Grief lost a few of the long, tendril-like limbs that still clung to her heart.

.

.

.

.

In an autumn late in the world, when the rumors of the darkness had reached far into the North, Tauriel was listening to the local news in Bree after a summer spent ranging on the borders of Rivendell. A dwarf lass, barely of age, bustled into The Prancing Pony breathless and excited, launching herself at the tall elf. “...by the Valar, Lis?!” Tauriel exclaimed, and the maiden nodded, grinning and merry, looking more like both of her long-passed elder brothers than ever, even without the stout bow on her back. She was dressed as a dwarf lad, in fact, as the women of her people often did when traveling, and but for the braided red hair (so like Tauriel's own color) and hint of red beard, Lis could have been either one of them come back from beyond.

“Da had a suitor lined up all proper, so I ran for it!” She beamed, and Tauriel scrubbed a hand over her face, “What's this?! You always said you'd take me on adventures with ya!”

“That was when you were barely tell enough to reach my knee,” Tauriel chuckled, calling for another ale at the fireside, “Is he such a bad fellow, that Dwalin's picked for you?” She highly doubted it, knowing how the old Dwarf had been ever since Dis gave him a daughter. As she'd expected, Lis looked sheepish at this, twisting her hands in her tunic. Blue, the same shade Kili had always favored. 

“Well, no...he's quite nice really!” Lis admitted, “I'm just...I'm too young. Da would have me married right off, like Mum did th' first time, just so he'd not have to worry about me anymore...”

“That is not why,” Tauriel murmured, “And you know it. He means for you to be safe, always...he means for your mother to never again feel a sorrow she's felt too many times before...you must forgive him this.” 

“Of course you'd go all....elf on me,” Lis mumbled, glancing up, “...You and Kili were in love, weren't you?” The girl asked, suddenly, and Tauriel paused, mid-sip, before nodding, slowly, the trinkets that never left her hair moving with her. “No one speaks of it, but I figured it out long ago...”

“...Tomorrow, I shall send word to your parents that I'm bringing you back home,” Tauriel smirked, “We needn't tell them, however, that we shall be taking the long way there, perhaps with many things to shoot at along the way.” Lis looked perfectly appeased. 

Grief turned over, and had its final death throes.

.

.

.

.

The next time Tauriel saw Legolas was in Rivendell, and their meeting was merry indeed, if very brief. She had been residing there for a few years before the Counsel was called, and she stayed to the margins as it took place, though small details reached her clever ears. She sat long with the Hobbit, Bilbo, who'd reached a great age by then and spent many of his hours in Rivendell's gardens, scribbling in his books. 

“So this ring they debate over,” Tauriel smiled at him, wry and knowing, as the Hobbit looked up at her mildly, and far too innocently, “It renders the wearer invisible, among other things?”

“It does,” Bilbo grinned, his elderly features as giddy as a boy's, “Why, one could slip the keys right of a jailer's belt while she slept, she'd not be the wiser!”

“Ah!” Tauriel laughed merrily, clasping her hands together, “One of the greatest mysteries of my long life solved!”

.

.

She saw Mirkwood again when it was under siege during The War of The Ring, and she defended it long. On the Enemy's defeat, she'd thought to have a proper visit with Legolas, when he returned to their home. But word came to Thranduil that his son did not intend to return from that kingdom of Men, not for some years yet, that those he now called friends needed him. Such was Tauriel's wonder over this, that she took the long, perilous journey to Gondor to look on him.

It would turn out that she'd not leave that country ever again, herself.

“Look at you,” Tauriel shook her head, walking with her old friend under the silvery trees of Ithilien many years later. The old, fair forests were thick with repair, many of their kin dwelling there in the new growth, building homes in and below the trees, along with Legolas' closest companion. A dwarf, and the son of one of Thorin's Company, who was now overseeing the laying of a great building's stone foundation. “I still cannot believe it.” 

“I could say as such to you,” Legolas smiled, looking far wiser, if not any older, than last she'd seen him. “You walk with me unarmed, far leagues from our homeland, garbed as a Lady and looking quite natural in it.” Tauriel looked down on herself, dressed in the long silver and gold the elves of Ithilien had favored. She shrugged, lightly, tilting her face to the sky. It was lovely here, with many trees and yet also with much sunlight filtering down through them, which she'd often catch herself basking in.

“I spent many long years in the wilds of the world, rough and far from any kin,” Tauriel murmured, “I welcome this now, from time to time.”

“We have been much the same, then,” Legolas told her, gently, as they paused by the riverbanks not far from the settlement, “...You once told me that much was waiting for our folk, outside of the forest. That other folk in the world might surprise us...” His smile widened, “I had eight companions, all of whom surprised me, and none more than Gloin's son.” 

“I am glad...that I got to see you surprised.” Tauriel smiled back.

.

.

.

She did not travel much, then. A little south perhaps, to look on the creatures of legend there, and North one last time, to see Lis wed. She bid farewell to Legolas and Gimli from the shores of their home as they took their boat toward Valinor, and Tauriel of Mirkwood lingered long in the fading beauty of Ithilien. 

Her loss had never left her, not really, though her sorrow had passed in its time. For all she'd seen and done, no mortal thing could replace what she'd lost in her youth, and in accepting this, Tauriel yet lived where others of her kind had died of grief, only to be sung of in laments of warning. No songs were written of Tauriel, no great tales of her deeds were written of or told, except perhaps to Lis and her children. And when she died, few knew of it, for she fell as many folk did, in an accident while out with a hunting party. She was forgotten by most, because her bravery, her grieving, and then her surviving, had all been quiet, and of a kind that many pass through in this world.

Tauriel was no less notable to those who loved her, though, and at his daughter's insisting, Dwalin saw that her body was buried in the Blue Mountains. Not far from where another lay resting, and in sight of the far-off sea.

.

.

.

.

.

So as we walked through fields of green  
Was the fairest sun I'd ever seen  
And I was broke, I was on my knees  
And you said yes as I said please...

.

.

.

She'd been here for too long. 

There were only two choices left to the slain immortal, they all knew this from when they were children. Either be reborn into the world, or wander the halls of Mandos forever, those were their fates.

No choice had been put before her, though. None. And she had been there long, in the empty halls, waiting. 

An awareness that others were there came to her over time, though she saw no one. She felt, though. She felt the confusion like a vibration in the air, a collective wondering. 

No choices offered. No paths.

And then out of the nothingness a knowledge came over her, like a voice in her mind, though it was not solely for Tauriel's hearing. 

_The Children will not be born into the living world any longer. Go, and see what is beyond._

The time of the Elves had truly ended? Her spirit trembled, a door at the end of the long hall finally opening.

Beyond. 

Elves had never known what was beyond. There was Valinor across the sea, or there was Mandos. Beyond?!

She fixed her mind on where she would go, and she left.

.

.

.

.

Her feet. They were in boots she'd not worn for a hundred years, soft and supple and good for hunting in. Her footsteps fell silently over worked marble floors, high-vaulted ceilings above her and music reaching her ears. Fine, merry music, she realized as it grew louder, like she'd heard on long, sweet nights that had never seemed to end in Esgaroth. 

Tauriel turned wildly, looking down at herself. Her hands and arms were more freckled, as they'd been under the sun of Ithilien, her hair was longer, and she was dressed in green and white and gold. Her hair was still braided, and heavy with the familiar weight of Kili's gold. 

Kili.

She turned again, as she heard him calling her name, and like they had so long ago in the field before Dale, they moved toward each other, Tauriel dropping to her knees on the stone floor as he kissed her. He tasted like all she remembered, smelled of the fine autumn feasts in Laketown. He held her face in his hands, thumbs brushing her pointed ears and looked on her in wonder, eyes wide, grin as merry as ever.

“I'd thought to never see you again!” He gasped, and she shook her head, tears blurring her vision.

“My people are leaving the world,” She whispered, “...I went where I wished.”

“...So, you came to me?” If it were even possible, Kili's grin widened, and overcome, she kissed him again long and full. It seemed to last for moments unending, and for once, the strange passing of time in this place was a welcomed thing to her. 

“I came to you,” She whispered back, resting her forehead against his, feeling the blessed, familiar pull of his fingers through her hair. For the first time in two-hundred years, her heart was whole in her chest once more.

“...Come'on!” He said at length, taking her hand and pulling her up, still beaming wide and boyish, “Dinner's always on, and you've lots to tell me of!”

“I do!” She laughed, linking their fingers together tightly, kissing his knuckles, “You've a sister now, first off...”

“No!” Kili laughed, grin gone amused, “Good on ol' Mr. Dwalin! Let's get my brother, he'll want to be hearin' too!” 

And so she let him lead her on, into the bright sunlit valley that waited, and the great, endless hall beyond it....

.

.

.

.

End

.

.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank goodness for Tolkien's vagueness on certain topics, else I'd no way to end this tale on a note other than abject misery and longing! I fully intend to now continue my bit of Dis/Dwalin, and perhaps this pair may yet get their AU ficlets here and there. I can't say how much the love this little bit of fun has gotten means to me. Really, I only started it because my friend and I were hard up for some Ladyelf fiction. I'm so glad other people love it as well, and I'm REALLY proud that it helped bring some hopeful positivity about this (potentially AMAZING) character to a part of the fandom. Hopefully, this ending leaves you satisfied.


End file.
